#fluff and angst and banter

[boyimjustaloserforyourlove]

Snap Snap Snap

https://www.tumblr.com/boyimjustaloserforyourlove/767338606523301888/snap-snap-snap-pt-2?source=share part two!

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED IN MY POSTS OR THE NEXT PART IN THE COMMENTS OR ANYWHERE ELSE!

me to their seminal vesicles because i wasn't raised to take shit from no man 💅🏻 also them to you in this smau✉️

my second request!!?! i hope this is to your standards. no Choso and Yuji because I can't see my babies snapping. it can't happen.

you like ? let me know! comments and reblogs and likes are appreciated and give me dopamine!

send requests, I'll probably do them all lol. i hope it is to your liking.

don't worry, both of these will be coming. your vote decides which one comes first

[aventurineswife]

YOU NEED REQS??? I HAVE REQS

model aventurine X designer reader and like aventurine is basically reader’s muse and she legit starts to fall for him

A Beautiful Wager

Summary: As a celebrated designer, your work thrives on inspiration from the extraordinary, and Aventurine—model, IPC executive, and a walking enigma—proves to be the perfect muse. Beneath his charm and confident smirk lies a man of contradictions, and as your creative collaboration deepens, so does your bond. When the walls Aventurine hides behind begin to crack, you find yourself gambling on something more valuable than art: his heart.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn Romance, Designer x Model Dynamics, Mutual Pining, Flirty Banter, Emotional Vulnerability.

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma, Emotional manipulation, Themes of self-doubt and trust issues, Subtle exploration of power dynamics.

The golden glow of Penacony’s fading sunlight streamed through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of your studio, painting the room with a surreal warmth. Rolls of luxurious fabric spilled across the tables, and half-finished designs cluttered the walls, each sketch a testament to your restless creativity. At the center of it all stood him—Aventurine.

He leaned casually against the fitting stand, his long overcoat draped over one shoulder, golden jewelry catching the light. His eyes sparkled with a mischief that seemed to challenge the very laws of fate. “So,” he purred, voice smooth and tinged with amusement, “am I the perfect muse, or is my reputation doing all the work?”

You laughed, though his question wasn’t entirely untrue. Aventurine had become both a fascination and an enigma for you. As a designer, you sought inspiration in the rare and extraordinary, and he was all of that—and more. His flamboyant charm, the intricate details of his appearance, even the way he adjusted his glasses with a knowing smirk—it all captivated you.

“I wouldn’t call you perfect,” you teased, stepping closer with a measuring tape. “But you’re close enough.”

Aventurine grinned, tilting his head to let the light catch the peacock feather earring that dangled from his ear. “Close enough? My, my, darling, that stings. I’ll have you know, the IPC considers me the definition of perfection.”

“Perfection isn’t always inspiring,” you replied, your voice laced with a quiet sincerity that caught him off guard. “Flaws, contradictions—those are what make people fascinating. Like you.”

For a brief moment, Aventurine’s mask slipped. His ever-present smile softened, and something unspoken flickered in his eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual devil-may-care bravado. “I’m flattered. Truly. Tell me, do I inspire chaos or brilliance?”

“Both,” you admitted, stepping back to admire your work. You’d chosen a deep emerald-green fabric for his ensemble, tailored to emphasize his sleek frame and finished with intricate golden embroidery that echoed the roulette wheel motif he favored. As you adjusted the final piece, your fingers brushed against his wrist.

It was subtle, but you felt him tense under your touch.

“Do you always gamble this much on your work?” he asked, his voice quieter now, tinged with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Only when the stakes are high,” you replied, meeting his gaze.

“And what’s at stake here?” Aventurine leaned in slightly, the playful edge in his tone giving way to something deeper.

You hesitated, caught off guard by the intensity of his question. His eyes searched yours, no longer masked by his usual flamboyance. For the first time, you glimpsed the man behind the facade—the vulnerability, the pain, the weight of secrets he carried.

“You...” you said softly.

The word hung between you, delicate yet unyielding. Aventurine’s expression shifted, the cracks in his armor widening as he considered your answer. He could dismiss it, turn it into another joke, another game—but he didn’t.

Instead, he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing against yours in a gesture that felt both tentative and deliberate. “Careful, darling,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with warning. “You might win more than you bargained for.”

You smiled, refusing to let him retreat behind his walls. “Good. I don’t design for safe bets.”

Aventurine chuckled, the sound soft and genuine, and for the first time, his smile felt real. “Well then,” he said, his voice a mix of challenge and admiration, “let’s see if you can outplay me.”

The room seemed to hold its breath as the two of you stood there, a designer and their muse caught in a moment that felt like the beginning of something neither of you could fully understand—yet neither of you could walk away from.

[raven-dor]

wish you talked to me

in which james potter is oblivious about his feelings, and it takes lily evans to help him realize it

PAIRING: james potter x ravenclaw!reader

WARNINGS: given last name, given middle name, angst, banter, slight arguing, mentions of death eaters, REGULUS LEAVES GRIMMAULD PLACE, oblivious james, jealousy, fluff ending

WORD COUNT: 3.0k

🎶 : traitor - olivia rodrigo

The house was empty, her footsteps could be heard from across the property. Y/N’s parents had left her home alone for a “much needed vacation.” She knew what they were really doing.

They’d asked her before to join, she declined. They then grounded her, taking away her wand and blocking the Floo so that she was stuck in her prison. Her father had been friends with ‘Voldemort’ during their time at Hogwarts, and her mother did anything her father said. The perfect wife. 

Y/N vowed she would never be like her mother. Not that she blamed her; standing up to her father took a whole other level of courage neither of them possessed.

Since her parents' departure, she’d been writing letters to Regulus, planning his escape from 12 Grimmauld Place. He had also tired of Walburga’s antics, and she couldn’t blame him.

If she was being honest, it was surprising how long he stayed, but Y/N was proud regardless. At first, she'd offered her home as his new residence but quickly realized her parents would sell him out without thinking twice. Then she came to a revolution so simple that she was shocked she hadn’t thought of it first.

Why separate siblings?

Owling James Potter was something she never thought she would have to do. It’s not that they weren’t friends, quite the opposite, but they saved their talking for when they were back at Hogwarts. She got a howler back from James (and Sirius) immediately, expressing their eagerness to house him, and from Sirius, his gratitude for helping his little brother.��

The plan began August 25th, at Midnight. Regulus ensured his parents were asleep, jumping out of the window and onto his broom. He leviated his trunk behind him, and after meeting up with Y/N at her home, flew the rest of the way together to Potter Manor. Minutes into their flight, a massive storm hit them.

Y/N groaned, yelling over the thunder. “Merlin, this is dismal!” 

They practically dropped to the ground, sighing in relief. Regulus was fine, but Y/N, who was not a quidditch player by any means, was not used to flying for long periods of time.

When Regulus brought that up before their flight, she laughed. “I’d do anything for you, Reg, you know that.” 

They approached the red door (fitting, Y/N thought, for the most obnoxious Gryffindor she’d ever known.) She laughed. Poor Mrs.Potter, she must have found James and his father's bold nature tiring, especially being the only Slytherin in the house. They hadn’t even knocked before it cracked open, Euphemia standing on the other side, sporting a beautifully elegant smile. 

“Hello dears. Come in, the storm must have caught you.” 

Y/N nodded. “Hardly.” 

Fleamont stood behind his wife, smirking. “Hardly? You’re positively drenched.” He reached grabbing Regulus’s things. “Thank you for escorting Regulus, Ms.Baudelaire.”

“It’s not a problem, really. He’s my best friend. I’d-” 

A pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the ground. “Y/N/N!!!” He squeezed my waist. “Godric, it’s good to see you.” He leaned down, whispering in her ear. “You’re looking great.” 

She blushed, playfully hitting at his chest before giving up and hugging him back. Sirius and Regulus looking at each other knowingly. The two sixth years had been dancing around their feelings for years, and practically everyone in school knew they were destined. 

“It’s nice to see you too, Jamie.” 

James released his hold, eyebrows furrowed at the fact that she was soaking wet. “Why are your clothes soaked through?” 

She laughed, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. “It’s a funny story, really.”  

Sirius interrupted. “Your clever little girlfriend-” 

She sighed, glaring at the boy. “I’m not his girlfriend.” 

“Whatever. Your not-girlfriend had the clever idea of flying all the way here in the rain.”

James looked back at the girl, who was now staring anywhere but him. “Is that true?” 

“I-” Y/N looked to Regulus for help, who simply shrugged. She glared, he was so unhelpful sometimes. “Yes?” 

James scoffed, crossing his arms. “That’s rather irresponsible of you, don’t you think?”

She raised her eyebrows, laughing. “Oh, that's hilarious. You’re such a hypocrite, James.” 

“Ask to use my floo next time instead of putting your life in danger.” 

“I have an honest question for you, Potter. Do you think before you talk? Merlin, I couldn’t use the floo! Can anyone tell me why?” She looked around the room. “Hm?” 

Regulus murmured. “Because the floo can be traced.” 

“Thank you, Regulus.” She looked back at James with a look of satisfaction. “Because it can be traced. I thought this through James, but the next time my best friend is running away, I’ll be sure to let you know my every move.” She scoffed, mumbling. “I didn’t realize you were my handler.”  

He sighed, reaching out. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

She ducked out of his way and quickly addressed his parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Potter, thank you for taking Regulus into your home. I hope I can visit soon.” 

Euphemia nodded. “Anytime, my dear.” 

Fleamont looked outside. “If you would like, you could stay the night. The storm is getting rather out of hand.” 

Y/N shook my head. “My parents return tomorrow. I have to make it look like I’ve been in the house before they get back. Cleaning and such.” She smiled softly. “But thank you.” She turned to Regulus, winking. “Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone.” 

He rolled his eyes, hugging her tightly. “How can I, you’re taking it all with you.” 

She laughed, her eyes watering. “Be safe Reggie.” 

“You too Y/N/N.” 

She nodded toward Sirius. “Black.” 

“Baudelaire. Thank you for taking care of my little brother. He needed a good influence in his life.” 

“I think you’ll do just fine.” He smirked, and she muttered. “For the most part.” Y/N turned to James last, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “Am I permitted to go?”  

She didn’t wait for a response, walking out of the front door and mounting her broom. The door whipped open, and James practically fell out. open, and James ran out. 

“What do you want, Potter?” Y/N fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” 

“Oh, really? Then what did you mean by it? Because it sounded like I need to run everything by you.” 

“You know that I worry about you. I-” He paused. “You know I care about you. Your safety is important to me.” 

She sighed, leaning towards him.

“Thanks, James, but I can take care of myself.” She flew higher, grinning. “See you at school!” 

It was odd, being friends with the man she’d had a crush on since second year. She had barely been able to admit it to herself, let alone Pandora and Regulus. They’d hung out much more than normal, getting lunch whenever they had free time. Alice Longbottom practically flew done the hall, grabbing Y/N by the shoulders. 

“Have you heard?” 

She laughed. “Heard what, Alice?” 

She squealed. “There’s going to be a ball!”  

Y/N laughed again. “You mean the ball that happens at the same time every year?”

“Yes, but there’s a twist.” She smiled. “Sixths years are invited!” 

“Rowena! Are you serious? When?” 

James laughed. “You just found this out? We’ve known about this since May when we snuck into Minnie’s office.” 

Y/N rolled my eyes, glaring playfully at the boy. “Well, not everyone can break the school rules whenever they please, James.”

Alice hummed in agreement, walking away while muttering something about how she had to tell Frank.

Y/N smiled longingly. “Those two are made for each other.” 

James looked down at her, his cheeks flushing. “Yeah, they are.” He cleared his throat. “Have any idea who’ll ask you?” 

“No idea. I think I’ll go alone. Stag, if you will.”

“Very funny.” He nudged her. “But that’s rubbish. Anyone would be lucky to have you. You’re gorgeous.” 

Y/N looked up at him, eyes wide. “Really?” 

He gulped. “Yeah. Of course.” 

Her jaw was weak as she stared at him. A student brushed past her, and she realized that they were in public, directly in front of the Great Hall. “We better get to lunch, or Sirius will eat our food.” 

James laughed. “Of course, right as always.” He held his arm out. “After you.” 

She giggled, throwing her head back. “Why thank you.” 

Weeks had gone by, and James still hadn’t asked her. The sixth years decided to meet in the library and study together for an upcoming potions exam, when the topic of the ball came up yet again. Y/N grew quiet, literally burying her face inside her book. 

Alice leaned forward, whispering. “So James, who are you taking to the ball?” 

James groaned. “I uh..” he trailed off, “I don’t know. I might ask…” Y/N looked up, immediately making eye contact with him. Shit. “I might ask Evans.” 

The table froze as Lily walked up behind him. She tilted her head. “What about Evans?” 

James cleared his throat, turning around sheepishly. “Evans. Hi. I- Do you want to go to the ball with me?” 

Lily’s eyes widened, and she looked over at Y/N, Sirius, and Remus. The Ravenclaw’s eyes watered, but she smiled all the same. He wasn’t hers, and she knew that Lily had liked James at one point. Y/N didn’t want to take that away from her, seeing what it would be like to date him. She looked back at James hesitantly, nodding. “Sure. I’d love to.” 

Y/N harshly wiped away the tears, standing up. Her chair scratched against the floor, and the whole of the study hall looked over. She smiled, waving. “I’m finished. So I’m just-” She hiccuped, slapping a hand over her mouth. “I- I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

James looked at her sadly, but Y/N couldn’t find it in her to care. “I’m-” She stalked off toward McGonagall, handing her her papers.  

The older witch whispered, placing a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Ms. Baudelaire, are you alright?” 

She smiled, nodding. “Of course, Professor. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Spinning on her heels, she walked past her friends without a second look. The door seemed to be a thousand miles away, and she started running toward it. The hall made her let out a sigh of relief, and she dropped to the floor, staring blankly. 

Sirius crouched down. “You alright Baudelaire?” 

Remus scoffed. “She’s obviously not fine, Pads.” 

“Well I was just-” 

Y/N smiled. “It’s alright Remus. He was just being nice.” 

Sirius nodded, smirking at the werewolf. “Yeah, Remus.” He sat beside her and sighed. “He’s a right prat, Y/N. If he can’t see how mad you are about him, or how mad he is about you, then he’s blind.” He murmured. “Technically he is legally blind.” 

Remus nodded in agreement. “Why don’t you just go with a group of friends? That would be… fun.”

Regulus stood beside Remus, staring sympathetically. Y/N smiled. “Do you and Dora want to make it a party?” 

Regulus’s eyes widened, and he mumbled. “I- I actually invited her as my date.”

She laughed, slapping a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, it’s not funny. That’s-” She smiled kindly. “That’s really great, Reggie.” 

“You can still come with us if you want.” 

“No thanks, Reg.” She shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll go.”

Sirius smirked, standing up and extending a hand. “Y/N Beatrice Bauldeaire, will you go to the ball with me?” 

Y/N glared. “Sirius don’t ask me because you feel badly.” 

He scoffed. “Please, Baudelaire. You’re hot, I’m hot. It makes sense.”

“I-” She tilted her head, blushing from the compliment. “That’s a fair point.” She took his hand, standing up. “Thank you, Sirius.” 

“I’m lucky to have you.”

Her heart stopped. “Anyone would be lucky to have you. You’re gorgeous.”

James’s messy hair peaked out of the study hall, walking over to the four students. He looked shy, which was unbeffiting of him. She felt satisfied, he should feel bad. “Alright?” 

Y/N stared at the ground, nodding. “Fine.” 

He nodded back. “Good.” 

She looked up, glaring at him. “More than fine. I’m going with Sirius to the ball.”  

James’s eyebrows rose. “Padfoot? And you? Is this a joke?” 

She tilted her head. “Where’s the joke? Sirius is hot; I’m hot. And better yet…” She walked up to him, crossing her arms. “He knows what he wants.” 

Sirius laughed, falling against the wall. Remus covered his smirk with his hand. 

“Merlin. Okay.” He smiled bitterly. “Well, have fun, Baudelaire. I’ll see you at the ball.” 

“See you.” She looked back at her friends, waving, and walking back to Ravenclaw Tower.

James turned to his best friends, thoroughly confused. “What is wrong with her?” 

Remus rolled his eyes. “You are oblivious, Prongs.” 

Sirius pushed off the wall, nodding. “You’re screwed.”

The girls decided to all get ready together, crowding into the Gryffindor girl’s dorm. 

Alice was going with Frank, (obviously), Mary with Amos Diggory, Marlene with Dorcas, Pandora with Regulus, and Lily with James (she was still apologizing.) Their dresses were all from Madam Malkin’s, customized to their personalities and, as Marlene said, overall aura. 

She wasn’t wrong. Marlene’s dress matched her perfectly, a sparkly black gown with a high slit and a deep v neck, she looked like she was the moon, which was perfect, considering that Dorcas was the definition of the sun. 

Lily chose green, Alice chose pink, Mary chose yellow, Pandora chose blue, and Y/N chose a cream dress with flower detailing. They looked like princesses.

The rest of the girls left soon after they finished getting ready, but Y/N lingered. Sometimes, she wished she had just said no to Sirius, and stayed in her room, sleeping through the night instead of dancing. Yet here she was, walking down the Gryffindor steps and holding her breath when she looked down at Sirius. 

“You look gorgeous.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Potter.” 

He laughed. “Back to Potter now?” 

She didn’t even dignify him with a response, turning to Sirius. “Ready to go?” 

He nodded, winking. “After you, my lady.” 

She grinned, smacking his arm. “Shut it.” 

The ballroom was exquisite, covered with freshly bloomed flowers, and golden and silver trees. The floor was white marble, and the band’s instruments were mirroring the trees, also being gold and silver. Y/N leaned her head on Sirius’s shoulder, mumbling. “It’s gorgeous.” 

“It is.” She followed his gaze, smiling. 

“Go talk to him, Sirius.” 

“Really?” He looked down. “And leave you here?” 

“Well, I didn’t say all night. This is a ball you know. I expect to dance.” 

He laughed. “Why have we only just become friends?” 

She rolled her eyes. “I have no idea. Now go.” She walked over to the punch, taking a glass before sitting beside Lily. “And how is your evening?”

“Potter will not stop talking about you and Sirius.” The redhead complained.

“I’m sorry.” 

“No, I’m sorry.” 

“Lily…” 

“I should have never said yes. It was-” 

“Lily, you are not the one who needs to apoligize.” Y/N laid a hand over hers. “You’re a good friend.”

James’s unruly hair came into view, and she stood, smiling once more at the redhead. “Have fun. I’ll be dancing.” 

The ball had been raging for hours, and Y/N had spent most of her time dancing with 3/4th’s of the Marauders. Her legs were aching, and she walked away, grabbing another glass of punch and sitting down, leaning her head back. Rowena, she thought, how do they do it? Some of her classmates hadn’t left the dance floor the entirety of the dance. It was heartwarming, she’d decided, seeing all her friends having fun. Sirius offered his hand to Remus, and Regulus was currently being led by Pandora, who was giggling at how red he was. A hand grasped her shoulder, and she tensed, tightening her hold on her wand.

“Woah, Baudelaire. It’s just me.” 

“Oh.” She didn’t bother looking at him. “Hello, Potter.” 

She could feel the eye roll. “Merlin Y/N/N. Give it up already. What did I even do to-”

Y/N whipped around, scoffing. “Oh I don’t know! I just thought you would ask me to dance. Stupid of me to assume.”

James was bright red. “I’m sorry Y/N/N. I didn’t know if you wanted to- you know.” 

“I actually don’t know.” 

“I didn’t know if you wanted to go with me. I thought you’d want to go with Regulus.” 

“I feel you need a better radar of who likes who, James.” She sighed. “I-” She smiled. “It’s in the past.” 

“Would you like to dance then?” He held his arm out. “I believe this song is one of your favorites.” 

She grinned, looking over in shock at the band. “I don’t remember telling you that I liked this song, James.” She whipped back toward him, squinting. “How did you know?” 

“I may or may not have been under my cloak when I passed you talking to Remus.” He paused, tilting his head curiously. “You tell Remus a lot.”  

“Fantastic observation James.” She stood up, putting her hand in his. “Are we going to dance or-” 

“After you.” 

She rested her head on his chest, swaying to the music. He looked down, humming. “You know you look really beautiful tonight.” James spun her quickly, her hands landing on his chest. “You took my breath away.” 

She threw her head back in laughter, not caring he could definitely tell she was blushing. “That’s rather cliche of you, Potter.”

He smiled. “Yes, it is. But it worked, didn’t it?” He leaned down, whispering in her ear. “You’re smiling.”

“I’m always smiling.” She glared. “You’re not the exception.” 

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “That hurts, love.” 

“Don’t-” She stopped. “I lied.” She whispered. “You make me smile more than I should.” 

“I think,” he leaned down. “I want to kiss you.” 

“James.” Y/N scolded. “Surely your date would be disappointed?” 

“Who do you think encouraged me dance with you?” 

“I don’t want to hurt her…” She mumbled. “But I really want to kiss you.” 

“Then do it.” He smirked. “Don’t be shy, love. I’m right here.” 

taglist: @beebeechaos

[quixotical-lymbo]

Goes on my knees to beg for a D-16 or Orion Pax x smaller autobot reader— where they’re more picked on by the guards for their height and uselessness, so he stands up for them and such. Like a big protector for the reader (it can be any gender!)

Pairing: D-16 x gn!small-framed!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: When you're a small bot working in the mines, it's difficult to keep up with your much larger than life miners. However, there's always a bot in your corner. Warnings/Tags: Again, SPOILERS YALL, Headcanons, cybertronian reader, fluff, and slight angst.  Word Count: 1000+ words 

How you two met

🟡 When his team was gaining a new member,  D-16 met you for the first time

🟡 You were…tiny to say the least and he wondered how or why you were working in a dangerous place 

🟡 With your helm barely reaching his midsection plating and bright-eyed look, he didn't even give you a day before you'd buckle under the horrors of the mine 

 Becoming friends…?

🟡 It wasn't intentional and purely accidental, but he ended up eavesdropping on your conversations with the other miners in the group. It was the moment your intake spilled the name of a Prime he's admired so much did he finally join the convo. 

🟡 Yet…this convo turned into a heated debate about how cool or uncool Megatronus is. You took the side of uncool while D-16 took a stubborn defense of his favorite Prime. 

🟡 Since then, whenever the two of you crossed paths it always ended with butting helms or mumbling insults under your breaths. 

Helping each other

🟡 One moment you were carefully extracting energon from a hard-to-reach vein when a rumbling caught your attention

🟡 Screams and shouts of a cave collapsing caused you to panic as you struggled to squeeze out of the shaft you were in

🟡 You were one servo out when you felt a bigger one envelop yours and yanked you free. 

🟡 It was hard to see when your optics were squeezed shut and you were forced against a chassis as whoever saved you kept running until you both were out

🟡 It was D-16? 

🟡 "...thanks."

🟡 "Don't mention it. Like…ever." 

🟡 "But…"

🟡 "Didn't I say-" 

🟡 "You're still holding my servo." 

🟡 He ripped away from you like you burned him as his faceplate was set ablaze 

🟡 You could be heard giggling behind him as he scrambled to get away

Protecting each other 

🟡 Perhaps something happened to cause Darkwing to be up your aft, but whatever the reason was D-16 felt that you didn't deserve being pushed around and yelled at

🟡 The last straw was seeing Darkwing, quite literally, snatch you up and bark insults in your face

🟡 He was hesitant to step in until he noticed your shaky plating and teary optics.

🟡 Placating Darkwing wasn't easy and D-16 earned a scolding and harsh jab to the side of his helm, but it was worth since he managed to get you away from the taller mech

🟡 You smiled at him and mouthed a thank you. 

🟡 He returned the smile with a grin of his own.

Your dynamic with his other friend, Orion Pax 

🟡 Polite and simple

🟡 Nothing really much to say, you usually encounter him if he's hanging off of D-16 

🟡 Sometimes the two of you engage in petty banter about D-16's love for Megatronus, other times it's to vehemently deny Orion's accusation of your feelings toward his best friend

🟡 When this happens, D-16 is confused when comes back to you chasing after a laughing Pax 

Nicknames 

🟡 Oh boy, he called you all sorts of things (especially before you two were cool with each other). From pipsqueak to scraplet, D-16 had a range of short-related nicknames to call you.

🟡 You called him D sometimes, even called him Big D once and it felt…wrong for some reason. So, you stuck with D.

Friends…?

🟡 You silly frenemy relationship with the silver mech grew warmer overtime 

🟡 Still, it was weird to call him a friend…he was more of a…coworker you wouldn't mind sticking to if you had to be partnered up

🟡 For D-16, he somewhat felt the same way, but something in his spark was telling him otherwise. It didn't help that a certain blue and red mech kept teasing him with fake googly optics whenever you and him were standing near each other. 

🟡 It was extremely awkward for a few chords (days) until another incident with Darkwing brought the two of you closer together. 

🟡 That incident involved getting scolded again, but instead of D saving you, it was you saving him by taking the fall

🟡 The two of you were in the med bay talking with each other. Intimate whispers and breathy laughs were exchanged. That night, the coldness between you two melted into a closer bond.

🟡 Then, he and Pax were nowhere to be found after the Iacon race. 

Dynamic after the events of the movie 

🟡 You didn't see D-16 for a while until he returned and…he's changed. 

🟡 It was one thing learning that your entire existence was a lie set up by a figure you once looked up to, but witnessing a mech you secretly admired turn into the very thing you were horrified by was…you couldn't even process the emotions that surged within you.

🟡 After receiving a cog, you can decide to follow D-16, or Megatron as he named himself, or stay. 

🟡 If you decided to follow after Megatron, expect his suspicion and lack of trust in your desire to join his cause. However, it doesn't take long for you to worm your way into his spark when you speak passionately about his cause and his goal to rule over Cybertron without him needing to corrupt you himself. Whether or not the previous feelings from before his change into the mech he is now is uncertain. Megatron is too busy with rallying troops/re-establishing the pecking order and you're left figuring out how to be of service to him. Only time can tell. 

🟡 If you decide to stay, you'll never see D-16 again. Only rare glimpses of Megatron from a distance. 

😼 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. banner(s) by @kodaswrld !!

[tojiscrack]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐍

pairing: megumi fushiguro x reader

summary: 18k words — you and megumi meet for the first time and experience kindergarten together.

notes: this is the fic i’ve been working on for a little while. a childhood friends to lovers with megumi because he’s so underrated (and deserves better!!). updates will be slow, but only because the chapters will range from 10-12k and maybe even more. check the tags to see if this story will interest you — i’ll make sure to add the tropes, what to expect, and the general gist of it all <3 enjoy! here is also sneak peak (a small scene from some of the future chapters) to be certain that this is the story for you :)))

tw: slightly bad english in dialogue (done on purpose as the characters presented are kids), y/n (she deserves her own warning), and idk, offended gojo

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

next chapter :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

2007-2008 kindergarten

you sat on the floor, the rough carpet scratching up against your shorts as you flattened out your skirt in preparation for your story-telling. the loud giggles around you had quietened notably. your classmates sat in a full circle, all facing you with contained anticipation and exhilaration. kimberly garnett sat with a fist in her mouth, grinning widely at you. malakai abara sat on his knees, bent forward with a smile on his face as he twisted the little dreads on his head with his small finger. the rest of the kids simply awaited, laughing as you reached for the toy torch and held it beneath your chin.

silently, you flipped the switch on... or rather struggled to flip the switch on. you heard several sighs from around you as you took the time to figure out what the issue was, until at last, the light had turned on (and blinded you in the process).

clearing your throat, you sat up straighter, eyes half-lidded as your story began:

"a long, long time ago, far away, once upon a time, there was a girl... and her name was bloody mary," you began, slowly. the other kids watched you with wide eyes. "she was killed by some bad guy. and then he trapped her inside a mirror."

"but how?" ayaan miah had asked, looking fearful.

you regarded him with little care.

"none of your beeswax, anyways! erm — so basically — erm — oh my god, ayaan! look what you done! now i can't remember!"

every kid in the circle whined and moaned out ayaan's name, frustrated at the boy's interruption. you shut your eyes, attempting to remember, and when you had opened them, you had been met with ayaan's flushed brown skin. you decided that you would save him then, seeing as you had remembered the story once more.

"wait guys, it's fine. i remember now."

everyone sighed in relief, their smiles returned.

"okay, so..." you sighed. "now when kids are being very bad, my mommy says that if you go in the mirror and say 'bloody mary' three times and then you spin around — then — then — then she's gonna come out and then she's gonna get her long nails and then she's — she's gonna try and kill you. and then there's gonna be so much blood."

your eyes passed each and every one of their faces, scanning their features; they looked traumatised.

from the corner of your eye, you caught slight movement. immediately, your head turned in that direction, met with the sight of amira khalil shakily raising her hand. it seemed that she had wanted permission to speak — you nodded your head at her, encouraging her to voice her thoughts.

"is there any way to save yourself?" she said timidly.

her wise question had led the rest of the kids to nod and look at you with big, curious eyes, seemingly pleased with her question and wondering what the answer would be.

you thought for a moment, scratching your head and accidentally moving the hair clip your mother had placed in your hair. you quickly adjusted it and then placed both your hands on the torch again, ready to answer.

"so, basically, you can pretend to die," you told them carefully. you did not like how the smiles on their faces had returned, looking satisfied with your response.

the kids had immediately begun speaking to each other, excitedly having discussions about how bloody mary was not ever going to be able to get them now that they had found a solution. you narrowed your eyes at them, a sneer on your face as you loudly interrupted the discussions.

"but!" you had said loudly. their attention was back on you, frowns forming and smiles disappearing. that's better, you had thought to yourself. "not to bubble your burst... but — but — like, she can get her finger and put it underneath your nose to see if you're breathing. and you can't hold your breath because she will hold it there for a long time," you added quickly as the smartest kid in your class (alexa clement) opened her mouth to put in her input. she had shut it as soon as the last word had been uttered.

kimberly garnett had long since taken her fist out of her mouth, not looking nearly as content as she had once been when she had first taken a seat across from you on the carpet.

"i think i'm scared..." she said, hesitantly.

you nodded, chin in the air. "yeah, you should be. but i'm not scared."

"huh?" gasped david yeboah, mouth parted in shock (similar to the rest of the kids in the circle). "how? what if she comes to kill you if you call her?"

you had your answer prepared since the moment you had stepped past the doors of the kindergarten building that morning.

"um — she — she's my friend, so — um — she won't kill me. and she said that if you guys don't give me your toys, then she will kill you," you explained, watching as they had all started scrambling to find their toys and place them by your feet.

another successful story-telling day.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

tired of playing with the same old toys, your boredom had reached its peak and you had decided that you would venture about and find something else to do. standing up, you stretched out your little legs and went waddling over to the toy box, searching for anything else to dig out and begin entertaining yourself with.

the toy box had been placed opposite to the teachers desk (which was also situated beside the interactive whiteboard). the rest of the room had five separate group tables leaving the centre of the room empty and bare (space for you and your classmates to sit on the floor when miss huckleberry would sing a nursery rhyme or read a boring story book).

the toys were not appealing to the eye, but you had just seen elena holland playing with a princess doll — you wanted it. it looked pretty, and squinting your eyes from a distance told you that the princess was actually rapunzel.

you wanted it even more now. rapunzel was the best disney princess in your opinion. you wanted that doll.

elena holland had always sat and listened to your scary stories, she had quietly listened to every single one of them since the first ever group circle had been initiated. therefore, by default, the doll had to be yours.

confidently, you marched up to elena, smiling as she noticed you approaching. you did not beat around the bush, nor did you attempt to sugar coat what you wanted.

"you have to give me that doll."

and the most shocking thing had happened to you after that.

elena had said:

"no."

startled, stupefied, and shocked, you looked back at her, scanning her pale face with disgust. you would give her the benefit of the doubt... perhaps with all the stories you had told, maybe she had forgotten the rules, the outcomes, or the consequences of not listening to your instructions.

that was quite all right. you were more than happy to remind her.

"okay, well, because you said no to me, bloody mary is my friend and she's gonna come and kill you... so yeah."

and you had found yourself absolutely flabbergasted when the girl had a well-prepared response to that. it had clearly been thought out.

"that's not true," said elena.

you frowned. "huh?"

"bloody mary's not real," she clarified for you, as if you had made up the story for your own enjoyment (which, you had, but that was not the point).

you resisted the urge to snatch the doll from her hands and run off with it, uncaring of whether she cried or not, unbothered as to whether you would end up in the naughty corner for the third time that day. your only concern was who had broken the news to her, who had ruined the entire purpose of your stories.

probably a teacher, you thought to yourself, scowling in annoyance.

well now it meant that you had to repair the damage. what a hassle.

"someone told me," elena added, as though that comment was ever so helpful (it was not).

"okay," you shrugged, acting careless. "don't blame me when bloody mary comes to you at night. i warned you."

elena had not wasted any more time in giving you the doll; you were pleased

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the next few days were rather unpleasant. you had not been in the greatest mood on one particular morning: the sun had woken you up that day, your mother had forced you to go in to kindergarten despite your strong protests, you had lost the class game, and you had been sent to the naughty corner at one point — which, on a normal day, would not have bothered you in the slightest: the issue lied with the stupid assistant teacher that had been told to watch over you because apparently, you could not be trusted to stay put. not to mention, you had an extra ten minutes in comparison to the other kids.

you had no plans on doing your typical story-tellings, yet your other classmates had been bugging you since the moment you had passed the double doors on your way in. initially, you refused them, in foolish hopes of the fact that they'd accept it and move on.

they didn't.

they pleaded for your story, claiming that they would truly stay silent, no questions, as you entertained them. you did not believe it, not even a sock could silence the annoying giggles and chatter of those classmates of yours.

but to stop their consistent begging, you had given in (albeit, reluctantly) and not long after, you found yourself sitting in that circle again, waiting for everyone to gather themselves.

"oh my god, kenji, shut up!" you scolded the dark haired boy who had been laughing loudly and preventing you from starting. your tone was harsh, aware that this particular classmate of yours would not take any offence to your comments towards him (unlike anyone else, who you knew would end up in tears, resulting in you sitting in that naughty corner once again).

"sorry," kenji lee chuckled, but you could not help but think that he did not look one bit sorry.

as the chatter around you began to die down, you repressed the urge to rip the stupid bow placed on your head that had been pulling on a particular strand of your hair for some time, and throw it at someone (kenji).

impatiently, you handed the torch to the girl next to you: you had very little tolerance for the struggle of attempting to switch the light on without wasting time. as you waited for her to click it on, you noticed that she was a newcomer, you had never seen her in class and you knew for a fact that she was not in the other class either. surely you would have been told?

the girl proved to be helpful, she had successfully switched the torch on and with a small 'thanks', you took the torch from her hands and placed it beneath your chin (again, almost blinded from the angle of the light shining just below your eyes).

this time around, you did not waste time with a slow introduction to your story, caring less and less for the enjoyment of your peers.

"so there was this man and his name is freddy krueger," you began, watching confusion rise on your classmates' faces. perhaps they were used to your long introductions (the typical 'once upon a time' etc). you did not care for it. "he used to be very handsome and then his wife found out that he was cheating on her and then burnt his face."

as promised, none of the kids raised their hands to ask 'how?' or question something very obvious. your bad mood had been knocked down an inch.

"so now he comes for naughty kids who keep cheating in games," you stated, staring specifically at christopher allen who you strongly believed to have cheated in order to win the class game that morning (stupid miss huckleberry had been adamant that he had truly won fair and square).

the silence that you had been revelling in for a short moment had been interrupted harshly. you'd heard malakai's aggravating voice distract you, ripping you from your hardening glare towards christopher, whose eyes were slowly starting to water for whatever reason.

"did fred have —"

you interrupted him.

"no you can't call him that, only i can."

malakai's eyebrows raised so far up, there were lines on his forehead. another voice cut in through the conversation: it was abby milton.

"y/n, how are you friends with every single bad guy?" she had asked, curious.

you had no choice but to step in and correct her.

"they're not bad guys because i changed them so yeah... they're mis— mis— misuntood."

you were ninety-nine percent sure that none of the kids in the circle knew what that word meant, but none of them dared to ask.

"oh, i forgot," you added, just as you had nearly placed the torch away. hurriedly, you brought it right back beneath your chin. "if — if — if — if you, like, don't keeping on telling off me... then he... umm... yeah, he won't kill you."

you did not specify (with your eyes or your voice) who you were referring to, but you had decided that the same went for the rest of the kids anyway. that naughty corner would be the death of you, you were sure of it. at least now, with this threat looming over their heads, you would not be in the naughty corner for a long, long time to come.

shortly after, you had quickly put the torch away and made your way to the book corner, attempting to entertain yourself with some of the new books the kindergarten had gotten. several of the other kids had decided that they were not done yet, that they still had questions that remained unanswered about freddy krueger. the only thing that deterred them was the threat that you would never tell another story if they bothered you this much again. 

looking disappointed, and mildly annoyed, they had walked off, grumbling about how they had no way to protect themselves from yet another evil entity. you shrugged it off, distracted by the pretty fairy lights and cushions decorating the book shelf. pleased with the presentation of the area, you admired the way the warm colour emanated from the little light bulbs attached to the silver wire. several posters lined the top of the bookshelf, promoting 'silent reading' and so on.

accompanying you some time later had been abby milton, complaining about how she wanted you to give more clarification about freddy krueger (you tried not to sigh loudly, thinking about how you had only just gotten peace about the matter).

"i'll tell miss," she decided on saying at last, something that had finally caught your attention after practically ignoring her pleas since the moment she had sat down beside you.

"freddy krueger will come get you in night time then."

and you were certain (after she had voiced out her response to that) that you were facing deja vu for the first time.

"somebody said you're lying," said abby, swiping her messy hair away from her face. "somebody said freddy krueger isn't real."

you attempted to mask over the fury you had now adopted, trying to hide the mix of confusion and curiosity too: as if your mood wasn't already terrible, you were practically a ticking time bomb, and the timer was slowly reaching its peak.

but your suspicions were now confirmed — there was someone out there sabotaging you: if it had been a teacher, like you originally suspected, then, one: you would have found yourself in time out again, and two: she wouldn't have threatened to tell off of you, seeing as the teacher would have already known about it.

it was one of your classmates. you were certain now.

reminded of the fact that not all of your peers entered the circle of your story-telling time, you could narrow down your options. someone outside of the circle was your culprit.

but again, you were not in the mood to spend the time investigating. so, instead, you decided to flat out ask her who this mystery person was.

"well they're a liar," you said, standing up and dusting yourself off, looking around. "they basically want you to get — to — to die." you looked down at her, brows furrowed. "anyways who even said that?"

"megumi."

and now you were more than offended. you were absolutely ready to beat down a boy, but for a fellow girl to turn around and stab you in the back with no remorse? that stung. it felt like she (whoever she was) had plunged a knife right through your back and pushed it all the way to your heart, practically carving out your insides to her pleasure.

ignoring her calls for you, you walked away and exited the classroom, standing in the playground and looking furtive. the sun shone over the unused bikes and the abandoned hula-hoops on the floor as members of both classes ran around and played together. the sight hurt your eyes, the headache of yours stirring even further and worsening with each passing minute.

and what was worse? malakai, that annoying peer of yours, had appeared in front of you somehow. you had looked away for a mere second, how had he reached you without your awareness?

"can you please tell me what freddy krueger stays away from? i'm scar—"

"listen," you started, the timer in you now at one digit numbers, "i forgot to say that fred also kills people who keep bov— bovering me, so you have to leave me alone."

just when you thought you were done with this conversation, someone else had decided to join in, but once they had spoken...

you were certain your hunt for the enemy had been over.

"stop lying."

leisurely, your head turned. it seemed as though a thousand years had gone by, but really, it had only been a short fifteen seconds till you had turned enough to be met with the sight of a... a boy?

a million and one questions had passed your mind in that short moment you made eye contact with the boy who looked as though you had eradicated his entire bloodline. had you misheard abby? you were certain the name of the sabotag-er was megumi, a girl name. 

but you were absolutely, one hundred percent, definitely certain that this boy was unquestionably the one going around ruining your plans, corrupting the minds of your classmates to turn them against you.

and the kid looked goofy too, you had thought, with his dark-as-night hair standing on all ends, his equally-as-dark eyes half-lidded as if he had not a care in the world, and his face forming an unmoveable frown, looking more than unimpressed. 

well that made sense. the metaphorical knife was now non-existent, since your initial assumption had been correct — it was a dumb boy after all.

"who," you began, defensive, "are you? i've never even seen you in my life."

but it wasn't (who you assumed was) megumi that answered. you had just realised that malakai was still in the picture.

"that's megumi guro!" he had said, loud and clear.

you regarded him with a short look before staring back at megumi guro, who had somehow appeared more grumpier than when you had first gazed at him. 

"it's fushi-guro," said megumi what's-his-face.

you scowled at him. 

"if you keep saying that again and again and again, freddy krueger's gonna come to you in the —"

"he's not even real."

malakai had gasped. you glared at megumi fushiguro.

"you know what? you're not even real megumi fushigo!"

"it's fushiguro," he repeated, stoic.

"i said that."

"no you didn't."

malakai had disappeared by this point, perhaps bored with this interaction between you and megumi fushiguro.

"yes i did," you repeated, frustrated. no other kid had ever challenged you, this megumi child was starting to put a bad taste in your mouth.

"no you —"

"yeah stop subject changing."

"you mean changing the subject."

"oh my gosh!" you exclaimed, scratching at your thigh which proved to be unsatisfying seeing as your tights were in the way. "you listen here with your girl’s name! you are a girl!"

"..."

megumi fushiguro had not said anything for a while, choosing to stay silent as he stared back at you. uncertain of whether you had seen it properly, but you could have sworn that you'd seen his eye twitch ever so slightly.

"not a girl's name," he grumbled quietly.

you gave him a tight-lipped smile. 

"liar, liar, pants on fire!" you shouted, pointing at him like he had committed a brutal crime in front of your very eyes. smug, you looked at him with a real smile this time. "who's the liar now?"

but megumi's response had come just as quick as you had finished yours.

"still you."

"no, it's both of us!"

"you just admitted to lying."

"..."

astounded, staggered, and stupefied, you stared back at megumi, mouth parted and jaw dropped. you had only just realised your mistake there, the smugness you had previously adopted now diminished and killed just as it had come. nobody had ever rendered you speechless before, you had always gotten your way. usually, people would simply leave you to have the last word in defeat, but this megumi... megumi had got you there, because you just had admitted to lying.

"...MIIIIIIISS, megumi slapped my butt!"

"megumi did not slap your butt y/n."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

"now you want to go to school, huh?" your mother mused as she pulled your hair back into a ponytail and began tying a silk ribbon into it.

it had been a week since you had met megumi fushiguro, and since then, it seemed as though he was everywhere. every story you had scared your other classmates with, he just had to be there to tell them the truth, corrupting them (in your eyes).

he had been actively undoing every tale you would tell and it was starting to irritate you. the only way you could win this silent battle was actually attending kindergarten, even if you had a pounding headache and had woken up on the wrong side of bed.

now you were seated on the floor, your mother on the soft couch as she worked to style your hair.

"i don't want to go," you grumbled, hissing when your mother had accidentally pulled at your hair ('oh, sorry honey'). "but i have to."

"yes, you do," your mother hummed in agreement, and you had quickly corrected her.

"no, not like that, mommy," you said, playing with the ends of your skirt as you attempted to explain yourself and what you really meant. "i have to because — because there's this really dumb boy that's just keeping on ruining things.”

"you mean keeps on ruining things?"

you sighed loudly, feeling restless. at the moment, the way you spoke was the least of your concerns. your mother could correct you later, not when you were in distress.

"i'm sorry, go on," she said, but you could hear the amusement in her voice, as if she’d made an attempt to mask her laughter (it didn't work). "what's his name?"

"he has a girl name," you said, feeling smug again. “i told him he has a girl name.”

"y/n, that's not nice," said mom, although she was gentle with her scolding.

"he's not nice," you replied defensively. “anyways, his name is megumi."

your mom laughed softly, tightening your pony tail and then leaning forward to fix the baby hairs with a bit of gel. she knew to use very little of it seeing as you disliked the way it felt on your head.

"that is a girl name, isn't it?"

"mhm," you nodded ('y/n don't move, i'll make a mistake).

"but…” she said, lifting you and putting you on the couch so you were now facing each other in order to do the front of your hair neatly. she spoke slowly so as to remain concentrated on your hair. "you still... can't... say that now, can you... hm, y/ n?"

you shrugged, and then immediately apologised when you realised you had moved.

"he deserves it."

“i'm sure... he does." said mom, smiling ever so slightly. "he's... megumi-what?"

she used a small toothbrush to clean out the sides of your forehead.

"megumi fushigo."

your mother paused, leaning back and staring at you in surprise. the toothbrush was still firm in her grip, but it was no longer pressed against your hair due to her arms deflating. she raised her eyebrows at you, mouth parted in what looked like to you as realisation.

"you mean fushiguro?" she said, taking you by surprise too.

"yeah, i said that," you responded easily. "how do you know him?"

"oh no, i don't know him,” she told you honestly, lifting the toothbrush and getting back to work with the gel again. “but i know the fushiguros. they live across from us, y/n.”

you looked up at your mom, mouth agape.

"he's our neighbour?"

"they have been... for... some time... yes," she answered, nodding slightly.

it seemed as though the universe was on your side: this meant that you could sabotage him if you really wanted to, too. who was to stop you from shouting out his door number in class? what if you met his parents and made a formal complaint about him? surely even a five year old could have some influence over matters such as a small rivalry?

"can i egg his door?"

“y/n."

"sorry."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

"y/n, you know the boogeyman guy?" said amira khalil, timid after she'd explained how she had to work up the courage to approach you.

you nodded.

"yeah, my mommy and i feed him every night," you said calmly, head down as you coloured in the big monster you'd drawn. "i think i already told you about him."

"you did,” said amira, confirming your thoughts. she was twiddling her thumbs, looking nervous. “i searched up him online with my older sister... i saw a video."

you looked up at her, patiently waiting for her to complete her sentence. she must have approached you for more than just some small information on what she'd got up to with her sister the other night. you guessed that maybe it had something to do with your knowledge.

"how do i protect myself from the boogeyman?" she finally asked, picking at her nails.

you shrugged.

“if my mommy and me forget to feed him, then he might come out."

amira's hesitant smile had dropped completely, brows raised and lip wobbling.

"but it's okay! we always remember to feed him," you reassured her. “but sometimes i can forget when someone distracts me — like if you — if you keeping on using the colouring pens when i need them — sometimes — sometimes it stays on my mind so i forget to feed him in the night.”

the poor girl did not look reassured in the slightest.

"but... but what if you get distracted over somefing else and then — then you f-forget to feed him?"

"that won't happen because he's not even real," said megumi, who had somehow appeared behind you despite this classroom not being his.

amira's cheeks flushed a warm colour.

“he’s not?"

you slammed your hand against the table and stood up.

“this is distracting me" you snapped, to which amira's eyes had widened and she realised what that meant.

"don't worry! i'll try and get my mom to remind your mom to feed him tonight."

and thankfully, before megumi could interrupt her straight-forward thoughts even further, she ran away, heading for the toilets.

you sighed irritably. this interaction had completely altered the rest of your day. instead of sitting in front of the tv for the rest of the evening, now you had a change of plans: sit by the home telephone and impersonate your own mother to make sure the news never got to your mom.

"why are you even here? this isn't your class, imposter!"

"i had to give something to miss huckleberry."

"go away, fushigo."

“it's — never mind."

———

"y/n, are you meant to be here?" miss turner had asked you, but only after you had entered the doors of the other class.

you noticed the most biggest difference between your classroom and the other classroom: the teacher’s desk was not on the left side, it was on the right. furthermore, there were only four group tables, not five, leaving more carpet space. instead of two toy boxes, there were three, filled to the brim with toys like lego, dolls and trucks.

you preferred your own classroom, especially when this one's bookshelf lacked any personality (where were the pretty fairy lights?).

"yeah, i am," you answered with a smile. "i — um — i had — i had to — i had to give something to you from miss huckleberry."

"oh?" said miss turner, and you had seen her big, brows eyes scan your empty hands. on instinct, you put them behind your back and smiled. "so... what is it? where is it?"

"um —”

and then you heard that dawdling voice again.

"it's not even real.”

you desperately wanted to turn around and elbow him in the face. you were the same height, it would have definitely worked too, but though you were impulsive, you were not reckless — in the direct presence of a teacher, his teacher too, you knew better.

miss turner's eyes had darted from you to megumi, curiosity lacing her soft features.

"what do you mean by that, megumi?"

"she's lying, miss."

one day, you vowed, as miss turner walked you back to your class by your hand, you will find a way to annoy him just as much as he annoys you.

———

the playground seemed even bigger now that everyone had been occupied by the new toys brought to fill the toy boxes inside. at first, you felt excited about it: new toys meant new entertainment. however, after seeing what the toys were, it had not taken you too long to lose interest.

still, there were a fair few of you outside, playing tag and running around till your breaths ran out.

you were on the twin swings with gabriela robinson (short name: gabi). it would have been enjoyable if that teacher assistant wasn't practically breathing down your neck, making sure everyone was behaving. why couldn't she have watched from the top of the slide? it created a wider field of vision anyway, why was she choosing to stand behind you?

“look, it’s megumi on the bike!” gabi had pointed out.

indeed, she was correct: it really was megumi on a bike, simply riding around with it in circles.

boring, you thought in your head.

"you know, megumi has a girl name, how funny is that?" you gossiped in hushed tones, chuckling and giggling at the thought just as megumi had passed you with the bike.

you almost choked on your own giggles when megumi slid to a stop right in front of you. he did not look pleased.

"y/n, that's not very nice," that annoying voice of the teacher assistant had cut in.

your smile fell, serious-looking as you turned your head to look back at her and say, “i wasn't talking to you."

the woman's face had turned angry.

"go to the naughty corner!"

you did not put up a fight. you got off the swings, glared at megumi (he was still looking at you without any visible emotion) and then walked yourself back inside.

you made another vow to yourself: that stupid teacher assistant would be your enemy from that day onwards.

———

"i saw your dad yesterday," you said to megumi, approaching him on the playground by the sand pit.

neither of you were in the sand pit. in fact, megumi looked disgusted at the mere sight of it. he was such a picky person in your mind — had he spent most of recess simply judging the sand pit?

he seriously needed help.

"why is he so fat?" you asked bluntly.

if your statement earlier hadn't caught his attention, what you just commented did. oddly enough, he did not look as offended as you had expected him to be. he simply looked... baffled, as though the way his dad looked was self-explanatory (which, it was, he was fat in your eyes, so why did he look at you like what you had just asked was all sorts of wrong?).

"he's not fat,” he said, just as bluntly. he stared back at you as though it were obvious.

"yes he is," you shot back, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "i saw him. and i saw him taking you to school so that — that means he's fat in the morning and fat at night too!"

he exhaled through his mouth, looking away and grumbling something about how he thought his mom was lying about you living near. you ignored that, still demanding answers.

"so why is he fat?"

“he’s not,” said megumi, emphasising the final word. “it’s his muscles.”

"does he eat too much?" you questioned as if you hadn't heard him. "what do you guys always have for dinner? probably — probably — er — burgers and fries and soda and lots of ice cream right? but your dad maybe takes too much, is that why you're so skinny?"

megumi's gaze hardened, face stony as he clarified harshly, "it's called muscles.”

but then a thought had just occurred to you, one that had you absolutely startled and staring off into space, watching as alexa clement hopped off the swings and left it moving back and forth with momentum. what if, you questioned to yourself, megumi ended up like his dad? what if he ended up learning how to be extremely fat?

you didn't hate megumi, of course. you never hated him, you just found him to be a thorn at your side. however, that did not mean that you would allow even a thorn at your side to grow as fat as his very father.

"megumi...”

and now you found yourself unwilling to imagine a very unhealthy and fat megumi, yet your brain just did not listen to you, the picture already set in your head. you slowly turned your head to look at him, eyes wide with worry.

"what.”

"oh my gosh... what if you end up like that?"

he looked as deadpanned as ever.

“i won’t.”

"megumi it's — it's gonna be fine because — because my mommy learned me how to make a lunchbox," you explained seriously. "i’ll help you make a healfy one so you — like — you don't look like your dad and become fat.”

"leave me alone," he said, annoyed.

he kicked and stomped at the floor, the sand left over flying up and entering your mouth. you coughed and spat at the floor, shouting at megumi, but you had heard the sound of his footsteps distancing themselves from you, a little too fast to be considered a walk. he had run away from you after leaving you to practically die at the taste of sand.

“MIIIIIIISS!”

———

the middle of october meant that there would be a parent-teacher conference. although it seemed too early (the other kindergarten schools do it much later on in the year) the one week holiday was nearing and it meant that a formal report had to be given to your parents about your behaviour, attitude to learning, relationships with other students, etc.

a lot of the parents had lined up by the double doors, the wall separating the two classrooms had been pushed away somehow (you had sat staring at it for a while) and the classrooms were now merged to be one big ‘boss' classroom (as you would say).

with the rest of you students having nothing to do but wait for your parents to finish their individual meetings with your teachers, you all huddled together and made conversation. you learnt the names of the students from the other class, interacted with them, and asked which of the adults were their parents.

your mother seemed to be running late, so you couldn't answer that question.

but someone (david yeboah) had asked megumi (who was standing across from you) who his dad was.

after megumi's stunt the other day, you felt the need to get back at him, embarrass him if you will. anyway, it wasn't your fault that his dad didn't have a healthy diet.

“guys,” you said loudly, as though you were making an important announcement — you were. "megumi's dad is a fatty!"

all of the kids stared at you in awe, some had even whispered ‘really?'. you nodded, ignoring the hard stare megumi was directing at you.

"yeah," you said in a hushed tone, quiet, but loud enough for all of the kids to hear you. “i saw him, he's really big, it's true! megumi's dad is a fatty —"

you turned around, nearly bumping head first into... megumi's dad's legs. you looked up, heart pounding from the vision above you.

if you thought he was big from a distance, then god knows what you thought now. his chest took up your entire sight, he was large enough to crush you with his fat hands if he so pleased.

the smirk that you had seen him wear before in the early mornings by his house had faded now. though, to your pleasure, he did not look angry at all. sure, his dark brows were knitting together as he looked down at you, and sure, his eyes were squinted. but he looked more confused than he did angry.

still, the realisation that he had heard you call him a 'fatty' made your heart race. not to mention, he looked terrifying from down there.

without a word, you simply turned the other way and speed-walked to the toy box, distancing yourself from him.

"woah…” you muttered to yourself, pressing a hand to your chest and feeling your heart beat hardly against it. “scary.”

———

you were sat by the book corner, a few other people occupying the bean bags with you. the school had bought a ton of new books for you to read, so lately, you'd been spending most of your time by the bookshelves and less and less of your time terrorising the other kids (and that teacher assistant).

you believed that the new books had been the best investment the school had made. however, it was bothersome when the other kids would beg you for story times again when you were clearly occupied.

besides that, it was blissful being able to find new entertainment in such a boring place.

at the moment, you had been showing your classmates the fiction book you had in your hands, a book that miss huckleberry stated had been shipped straight from the uk (someone failed in doing a good british accent too and it made you cringe).

it was about this girl (she had a silly name, you thought) called goldilocks and her adventure with the house belonging to three talking bears.

"no, david, that's not how the story went," you said wisely. “the baby bear went back in the room and saw goldilocks ru— ru— ruining everyfing.”

"that's not even real.”

you looked up: megumi was standing by the entrance of the book fort you had made for the book corner. he looked serious (when did he not?) and he was staring at the book held up in your small hands. in his own arms was a larger book, thin enough to imply that there wasn't much story to it, but unlike the other books, the book he possessed had real life images as its cover.

"it's goldilocks and the three bears," you informed him, eyes narrowed.

"yeah... and it's not even real."

"it's a book!"

he held up his own one.

"this is a book too."

"yeah, so that's not real either!"

"it is,” he said, with a tone of finality.

you were not having it:

"how come your book is real and mine isn't?"

"mine is non-fiction," said megumi, and you felt glee in your chest when he nearly stuttered over the word 'non-fiction’. megumi had never stuttered before, but he was also not super human either. he was the same as the rest of you. "yours is fiction. fiction means fake —"

"MIIIIIIISS! MEGUMI’S LYING!"

"y/n i am sitting right near you, you do not have to yell.”

———

though the academic year had not even been close to ending, the kindergarten had made a boring, old tuesday an open-day for future students to attend. current students were still required to go to school like usual, only, towards home-time, the kindergarten would be open till eight o’clock in the evening.

the year before, you had not stayed that late, seemingly bored with the idea. this year, however, your mother had to work late and could not pick you up. conveniently (for her, not you), the open-day fell right on her work overtime-day. she did not have to call for one of your aunts to come look after you (a hassle for her, really, because although her family loved you, they believed that you were a devil-child, hence the difficulty in trying to get them to come over).

several other kids had stayed back too, but only out of their own will.

apart from one particular child — megumi fushiguro.

he did not look happy at the prospect of staying for longer than when the clock hit three o’clock (home-time). you shared his displeasure silently, though there really was no need for him to be there, you noted, for you had seen his father accompany other parents by the coffee stand.

had he been forced there too? megumi’s fat dad looks annoyed, you thought to yourself.

you did not dwell too much on the thought, for you and the remaining kids had decided to play hide-and-seek. some of the new kids — accompanied by their parents — had joined in too. you did not mind, the more the merrier, especially when your actual classmates had refused to allow you not to be seeker.

you shrugged, uncaring of which role you played in the game.

so, eyes shut, you counted from one to twenty:

“one… two… three…” you counted, already bored. you continued. “…ten… eleven… twelve-thirteen-fourteen-fifteen —”

“hey no fair that’s cheating!” some whiny voice you didn’t recognise had spoken.

you scowled, turning around to see who it was: no surprise, it had been some random kid, not one of your classmates who knew better than to doubt you.

“found you, you’re out.”

the ginger kid looked scandalised.

“but —”

“sixteen… seventeen… eighteen…”

he ran off crying somewhere.

“nineteen-twenty!” you shouted quickly, jumping up and uncovering your eyes excitedly. “ready or not, here i come!”

you skipped along the classroom, picking out several dumb kids who had hidden in places that were very obvious to you. another one of those random new kids had stayed in the centre of the carpet (which was out in the open), crouched with his eyes shut.

you stared at him, deadpanned.

“i found you.”

and he had the audacity to ask ���how?”.

dumb kid, you thought, as you walked out to the playground and saw some kids hiding behind the slide. in order to get there, you had to pass the coffee stand.

the sight of the teacher assistant looking bored and annoyed pleased you: a smile radiated your face which had previously been decorated with scowls and frowns.

you skipped past megumi’s dad along the way.

“hey fat-man we’re just playing hide-and-seek!” you informed him happily.

you did not wait for his response as you continued to run away, a jump in your step as you slowly got closer and closer to the slide; you had passed a stoic megumi, who simply stood there as you casually insulted his father. you could have sworn that you heard the insulted man audibly grunt, muttering something that sounded like ‘who is that child?’.

you did not have the time to entertain his questions: those kids were getting away.

———

mondays were the worst days in your opinion: it was the start of the week, meaning that you still had four more days to go before the weekend would arrive. the weekend was also only two days long, one day which you would spend stressing about monday being the day after that. it was unnecessary stress for a five year old.

mondays were also the days where that annoying teacher assistant would stay in your class more than the other class. you didn’t want her there, so why was she always present? it irked you, she held no purpose, really.

it had been nearing lunch time as you sat on the grass on the playground with two other girls: kimberly garnett and alexa clement. they had been telling you about how, apparently, a boy from the other class (alejandro henderson) had a crush on one of the girls from your class, though it was undiscovered who.

ultimately, it was a gossip session.

but the conversation of alejandro and his secret crush was starting to bore you. it was not long before the topic had changed.

“why is megumi alone all them times?” said kimberly, who had craned her head over her shoulder to look at the dark-haired boy — he was staring at some cat that had somehow ended up in the playground.

none of you had actually answered the question. none of you ever answered any questions, you simply spoke for the sake of it.

you leaned in, face gleaming with excitement as you put a hand over your mouth to whisper.

“megumi looks like a porcupine —”

“y/n!”

you stared up at the teacher assistant who somehow spawned in front of you. her eyes were fierce and demanding, staring at you with indignation. how had she heard you? you had been certain that you were whispering. did she somehow have super ears?

you did not say anything, choosing to remain silent. she raised a pointed brow at you, as though to say ‘explain yourself’, but you did not submit.

instead, with a sigh, you stood up, dusted your skirt off, and walked yourself back inside, claiming the time-out seat without having to be asked. and all the while, you felt eyes burn holes at the back of your head, knowing full well that they did not belong to the nosy teacher assistant.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the autumn season had hit hard as the month of october had slowly come to an end. by the point it had turned into november, you were now attending school with mittens, scarves, and a big coat.

one particular morning, you had woken up feeling giddy: your hatred towards summer was unmatched. in your mind, the autumn and winter days were the best, no questions asked.

you had gotten out of bed with a smile (for the first time in a while) and attended kindergarten without any protests — your mother had been pleasantly surprised and there were no complaints.

even the sight of megumi did not evoke annoyance out of you.

the kids had stopped asking for the stories you would tell seeing as darkness would hit the skies earlier than what you had all been used to: it meant that there would be more time for fear of the evil entities you told them all about should they ask for the stories. it was convenient, for you could still practically control your peers through the threats of the previous stories whilst also not being annoyed by being asked for new ones. besides, halloween had only just passed too, and kenji lee had claimed that he’d seen someone dressed up as the bloody ginger-woman — you did not believe him because you made that woman up for one of your old stories. ‘she wasn’t even real,’ you had said to him, and then slapped a hand over your mouth when you realised just who you had begun to sound like.

one particular frosty day, you approached megumi on the playground and simply stood beside him, curious to see what he had been staring at for the past five minutes. he gave you an odd look, but did not question you for accompanying him.

until he did.

rudely, too, you had to add.

“why are you just standing there, megumi?”

“why is your hands so pale right now?”

“what are you staring at?”

“how does your hair stay like that?”

“why —”

“what do you even want?” he had snapped, turning his head ever so slightly so as to glare at you with his cold, dark eyes.

you laughed.

“you can’t — you can’t — you can’t answer a question with — with another question,” you told him, chuckling. “silly billy.”

“you just asked me ten hundred… million… billion questions,” he scowled, looking away from you to stare at something in the distance again.

“that’s not a number —”

“shut up.”

“i’ll tell miss.”

“miss never believes you.”

you shrugged. fair point, you had thought. he raised a good argument. it was odd, any time you told off of anyone, it always ended up backfiring. however, if it were anyone else telling off of you instead, you’d end up warming up the naughty chair for a future sitter (most likely you again) as per usual.

“so…” you began, bending your knees slightly to crouch a little and reach megumi’s downcast eyes. “you didn’t answer my question.”

“which one?”

“what are you staring at?” you repeated, standing up straight again and letting your fingers intertwine in the comfort of your unconnected pocket of your coat.

megumi hesitated before answering.

“i saw a fox when my dad dropped me off.”

you looked around, inspecting the bushes.

“well maybe you was seeing monsters,” you said wisely. “my mommy says —”

“your mom never said anything,” megumi cut in icily, “it’s always you.”

for some reason, you did not find it in you to be offended. maybe it was because he hadn’t been lying — it was true: your mother never actually said anything, you simply used her as a way to lie about untrue facts. it was good to use someone older as a guide, less people denied your statements because of them. adults simply couldn’t be wrong.

“ok,” you began, unsure of where to continue. “okay well my mommy says i have to play with lonely kids so i’m just gonna play with you, all right?”

megumi, with his hands shoved in his designer coat (he was rich? his father didn’t look rich), glared at you, looking mildly offended. what had you said wrong?

it seemed that you would never know, not when he hadn’t bothered to say.

“no,” he said instead, and his tone seemed final.

you grinned. “oh, was that a yes?”

“no— i said no.”

you ignored him, feeling fidgety as you perked up excitedly.

“okay ready steady tag you’re it!”

you tapped him on his arm, excitedly running away from him. you knew that he wouldn’t chase after you, so you opted to not run very far and then skip around him, running in circles as he remained in the centre. and as per usual, he wore his signature scowl.

“stop it you’re making me dizzy,” said megumi.

you didn’t stop. you continued to run around him in circles, urging him to play.

“don’t you know how to play tag?” you asked, teasingly. “you know everything except tag —”

“no,” said megumi, but you could tell his resolve was faltering.

“i’m gonna keep running around you megumi! it’s fun!”

megumi stood completely still as your excitement grew, the blood beneath your skin running with adrenaline as the beat of your heart increased. with you alternating between skips and runs, you were slowly growing out of breath; mixed with your laughter only made it harder to keep it all up.

until the circles had stopped — megumi’s eye twitched and the next thing you knew, the dark haired boy was charging at you.

you squealed, frightened as you tried jogging away, but with how much you had ran in circles previously, your speed was not your greatest. it felt like a dream, your feet hitting the ground slowly.

“no — megumi —” you shouted, scared as you looked back and saw him catching up. “i didn’t” — you gasped for air — “think” — you exhaled — “you would” — you let out a breath — “actually chase me!”

and you had learnt a new thing about megumi that day: as small as you both were, his little legs took him far. he was probably the most speediest kid you had seen in your five years of living, the lesson learnt extremely well when you felt a hand press against your shoulder, pushing you forwards as you stumbled and halted, nearly falling over as you gathered your breath.

you turned around, shoulders raising and falling, chest heaving as you stared at him. his hair was still as dishevelled as ever, but he looked more ruffled than he usually did, tiny breaths of air falling from his nose.

“got you,” he had mumbled under his breath, staring back at you fiercely.

you looked back at him, scrambling for excuses.

“actually you didn’t get me,” you told him, extending your arm to hold onto the red roundabout, the crisp autumn leaves decorating its floor. “see? i’m home. you can’t get me because i’m safe.”

you gestured to the connection between your touch and the roundabout.

megumi’s brows had furrowed, a crease forming between his dark brows on his pale skin. he did not seem to agree with you, but unlike the other kids, it seemed as though he would keep up an argument with you.

“you just made that up,” he said, sounding confident in his statement.

“no,” you denied, truthfully. “ask — ask — er —” you stammered, looking around for a potential helper.

david had been crossed off the list immediately — he was rather stupid. kenji had been crossed too — he would try and go against you out of fun. nia akello, a girl from the other class you and megumi were both familiar with, would be perfect. she was not biased and had also been a victim of the ‘home’ rule in tag you’d introduced some time before.

“ask nia!” you said brightly, and before megumi could say anything in an argument, you waved at nia and called for her. “nia! hey! over here!”

confused and shocked, nia akello ran over to where you and megumi had been standing, out of breath by the time she had reached the two of you (it had been a short distance, arguably).

“nia, isn’t it true that —”

“shut up you’ll cheat,” snapped megumi.

you hadn’t been silenced by him, necessarily, you had been silenced into shock. and offence. you were very offended by the way he had spoken to you publicly.

whether he’d seen your expression or not, he had made no indication, for megumi had not wasted a second before he rushed into speaking to nia.

“is ‘home’ real in tag?”

“yep!” said nia, beaming. “can i go now?”

“n—”

“yes you can, nia,” you smiled, shooing her away before megumi could corrupt her into believing that a ‘home’ in tag did not exist.

to be completely honest, it didn’t exist. you simply made that up when you got tired of running so much and needed a break. in your defence, it was good! it made the game more interesting after all, what’s not to like about it?

apparently quite a lot of things, for megumi did not look the tiniest bit impressed (not that you had expected him to be anyway).

“fine,” said megumi, taking you by surprise. you took your hand off the roundabout as you listened to him speak. “the swings is the new home.”

“what —”

“i’m gonna chase you now.”

megumi took a step back, sliding his feet against the concrete as an act of intimidation — it was working.

you scrambled to look for an out.

“but —”

“five… four…”

“megumi —”

“three…”

“that’s not fai—”

“two…”

“wait!”

“one-and-a-half…”

“UGH!” you sighed, jumping up and running away with as much speed as you could gather.

megumi was on your heels the second you had taken off, having reached zero on his countdown. you had realised (as you pushed past several people to get away from the evil child), that you had foolishly ran away without looking at where you were heading, now finding yourself further and further away from the swings.

you looked back, cautious, and immediately regretted it when megumi’s face appeared inches from your own.

you let out a yelp at the sight of his raised hand and swerved away.

“this is —” you gasped out, scrunching up your dress as you ran; you had very nearly been caught, “SCARY!”

your throat grew dry, panting for breath whilst you dodged megumi’s hand. you made the dumb decision of looking back again, letting out a squeak when you had realised just how close he was getting.

“I WANT MY MOMMY —”

it had seemed that your call for your mother had drawn the attention of miss turner, the teacher of the other class. previously, she had been looking over the sandpit and making sure your peers hadn’t been making a mess, but as you neared it, she’d looked up and caught you sprinting.

“y/n? what’s —”

“MIIIIIIIISS!” you cried, just as megumi’s palm had fallen flat against your back.

dramatically, you tumbled forwards, sliding against the concrete and lying against it despite your disgust with all the dirt.

you opened your eyes, met with the sight of megumi staring down at you, chest heaving as he let out little pants out of exhaustion. still, even in his tired state, he did not look the slightest bit pleased.

“i win.”

you sat up, groaning. “no you —”

megumi did not wait for you to say your piece before he left, saying something to miss turner and then entering the building again without looking back at you.

and all the while, you smiled at the thought that you had basically forced megumi to play with you.

but that had been before you’d taken a look at the state you were in, and then inwardly cursed at yourself for playing such a dangerous game with a kid who had little care for anything at all.

home-time that day had been amusing too. your mother had been running late (miss huckleberry had informed you earlier) so you spent the time sitting outside with members of the other class and getting to know them better — it was mainly due to the fact that the teacher assistant had once again been breathing down your neck, you simply had to get away from her.

your chats were being cut short as the parents began turning up, which made you rather bored.

up until the point where megumi had to leave.

megumi had been sitting in the corner, a little two meter distance between you and the rest of his class. you had no idea whether that was a normal thing or not, you didn’t bother questioning it, merely chatting along with the other girls.

but then you’d heard miss turner say something rather interesting.

“megumi,” she had said, calling out to him from beside you. “you can go, your dad’s here.”

when indeed, his dad was not there. you frowned, looking around for the fat man that you knew to be megumi’s father. there were only several mothers, young women with strollers and other dads already occupied by their own children.

but in the far distance, approaching you all slowly, had been a man with white hair, taller than anyone you had ever seen, and wearing round, opaque sunglasses despite the weather being very gloomy.

but that simply couldn’t be megumi’s father: you knew megumi’s father. you’s seen megumi’s father. you’d spoken to megumi’s father. and that man, wearing a smirk worth gold, was certainly not megumi’s father.

and it seemed that megumi had agreed.

“he’s not my dad,” he had grumbled, hiding the lower part of his face behind his designer coat.

“yes, yes, your godfather —”

“you have a godfather?” you spoke up, curious.

megumi glared at you, eyes narrowed.

“i didn’t know that!” you beamed, looking back at the white-haired man.

you hopped off of the long bench you had been sitting on, approaching megumi without taking your eyes off of the man.

odd, you had thought then. the man looked very different, his hair colour was unique, his style was very questionable too (mainly the sunglasses). his hairstyle made sense, you decided to yourself — it was nearly as messy as megumi’s, but not quite as dishevelled.

you leaned in, placing a hand over your mouth to whisper. megumi did not lean in.

“so is your dads gay?”

he stared at you, startled.

“huh?”

it had been the first time you’d seen megumi appear shocked.

“because — because you have two dads,” you clarified helpfully. megumi still appeared to be taken aback. “so is your dads ga—”

“no,” he answered. “they don’t even like each other —”

“so why do you have two dads?”

“i don’t.”

“oh! is he your grandpapa?” you asked, eyes brightening. the white hair would make sense, then.

“no,” said megumi harshly. “he’s not anything.”

“hm,” you thought, looking at the white-haired man speaking to some other teacher. “so is he alb— albin— alban— is he albanian?”

megumi blinked at you.

“what?”

“don’t make me say it again,” you said. “it’s a hard word.”

“albanian?”

“yeah… i think. is he that?”

megumi stared at you for a short while before looking away, staring at the man you had been gossiping about. it did not click to him for some time, it seemed, for he looked as though he were in a little daydream, thinking about what you had meant. you did not have the energy to repeat yourself: as you had claimed, it was indeed a hard word.

luckily for you, a lightbulb had clicked on in megumi’s brain, and he looked at you with a frown.

“he’s not albino,” he had stated firmly. “do you even know what a godfather is?”

“yes!” you said, defensively. was he seriously accusing you of not knowing what a godfather actually was? how pathetic.

yet that look he was giving you… he was expecting you to give him the definition.

if he wanted to be proved wrong so badly, why didn’t he just say so?

you stood up straight.

“it’s when god picks your dad —”

“no.”

“but my mommy says —”

“no she never.”

you scowled at him. “it’s not my fault your dad is old!”

“he’s not my —”

“megumi!” a cheery, deep voice had interrupted casually. you looked up, a shadow fell over the two of you: it was megumi’s apparent godfather, grinning toothily and quite literally showing off his pearly whites.

from up-close, he looked like more of a giant. he had to be at least eight feel tall, you had decided. maybe home-time was always done outdoors due to people like him — it would be difficult to move past a door frame with ease.

he didn’t have any wrinkles. in fact, his skin looked quite smooth, like the skin of a teenager.

but his hair…

“my son!” said the man, arms wide open as though he were about to engulf a grumpy megumi into a bone-crushing hug — you couldn’t imagine that.

you looked at megumi, who had all but disappeared behind his coat. you resisted the urge to laugh. was megumi embarrassed?

“oh — megumi — finally made a friend?”

the man looked down at you, grinning.

“we’re not friends,” you heard megumi utter, but you ignored him (as per usual).

instead, you directed your attention to the man.

“how old are you?”

you thought you’d heard megumi groan.

the man’s grin had fallen, but reappeared just as fast as it had dropped. he bent down to your height, his arm hanging over his bent knee as he came face-to-face with you.

“why don’t you guess?”

your answer was quick.

“eighty-seven.”

and this time, when his grin had fallen, it had not returned.

“why would you say that?” snapped megumi, who had reappeared from his hiding place behind his coat. he looked irked, irritated, and annoyed. whether it had been at you or his guardian, you had no clue.

“okay… seventy nine?”

“what the hell?” demanded the man. you were unsure at who he was looking at now — his sunglasses were more opaque than they had seemed from afar.

megumi had turned away, something about ‘now i have to deal with it’ — you weren’t quite sure. you frowned, looking back at the man. he looked scandalised, outraged, and disappointed.

your jaw had dropped.

“you just sweared!” you gasped, eyes accusatory. “my mommy says swearing is bad.”

“well your mommy should’ve taught you what an old person looks like,” the man responded, a bite in his tone.

“she did! they’re like you!”

“i am not old!”

“you really aren’t?” you asked, expecting it to do less damage than it actually would.

“i’m not even twenty-one yet!” the man pouted, looking nearly faint.

“really?” you said, eyeing him up and down. “you look like — you look like you’ve — you’ve seen the world. like santa. are you santa? —”

“megumi,” said the man, standing up to his full height and turning away, adjusting the glasses sitting on top of his nose. “we’re leaving.”

“finally.”

you watched them go, frowning when the tall man looked back at you over his shoulder and stuck his tongue out at you. you scowled: father christmas was supposed to be nice to kids. maybe you needed to write a letter to the north pole about a formal complaint on him.

“guys,” you said, turning to look at the remaining kids still waiting for their parents to arrive. “i met father christmas!”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

“i know what godfather means,” you stated proudly.

you and megumi were on the bikes. you had already been seated on one, megumi was starting to climb on the one next to you. he hadn’t looked at you once as he silently placed his feet on the pedals, brows furrowed in concentration as he gripped onto the handles.

“do you want to know what my mommy said?”

you stared at him with wide eyes, smiling despite the fact that nothing was actually amusing; you were still buzzing with excitement about the fact that megumi had a godfather. how sick was that? you’d never met someone with a godfather!

“no,” said megumi, checking the bell and seeing if it was able to ring well.

ding! ding!

“i’m gonna tell you anyways,” you informed him brightly. “my mommy s—”

ding!

you paused, beginning again after you the last ring of the bell had echoed.

“my mommy —”

ding!

“she says —”

ding! ding!

you frowned.

“my mommy says tha—”

ding! ding! ding!

you scowled.

“mommy-says-that-a-godfather —”

ding! ding! ding! ding!

your eyes narrowed as you placed your feet on the pedals and began cycling so that you were now face-to-face with megumi.

“you’re doing that on purpose!” you accused him, a crease formed in between your brows when you furrowed them.

megumi shrugged. “am i?”

“you can’t —” you began, stammering, “you can’t — you can’t answer a question by asking another one.” you shook your head at him. “you just can’t.”

megumi ignored you, taking off by pedalling away from you. you watched him leave, offended, before pedalling faster to catch up with him. several kids were in your way, using hula-hoops and skipping ropes that megumi had skilfully avoided. you, on the other hand, were in a rush to catch up to the boy, so you simply used your bell to alert them of your appearance.

ding! ding!

“‘scuse me! ‘scuse me! coming through!”

you were pretty sure someone fell somewhere behind you; you did not care.

it hadn’t taken long before you’d caught up to megumi. you cycled with him, nearly bumping your bike into his.

“you’re being mean, megumi.”

“ok.”

“anyways, my mommy says a godfather is a dad your parents chosed.”

megumi let out a noise, something between a grunt and a groan. “i don’t want to talk about him.”

“it’s okay! i kept your secret… kind of,” you said, as the both of you turned your bikes in the direction of the open space in the playground.

“secret?” said megumi, glancing at you from the corner of his eye without turning his head.

“mhm!” you nodded, smiling. “your godfather is santa —”

“no he’s no—”

you interrupted him by cheekily bumping your bike with his. his reaction had not been nearly the same as you had initially imagined: instead of being motivated, he nearly fell off his bike and glared at you once he’d regained his balance.

you cleared your throat, pedalling faster as you zoomed past him.

“race you!”

you hadn’t expected to actually hear a pair of wheels following after you. but you had slowly started to grow aware of the subtle surprises megumi could bring you.

later on that day, you hadn’t felt like going back to miss huckleberry’s class. when you had told megumi that your class were going to do a colouring task together, megumi had revealed that his class were going to do a painting task together. immediately you longed for the paints rather than the colouring pencils.

it wouldn’t be you if you never tried to do something about it; feeling adventurous, when the call had been given for all kids to go back to their respective classrooms, you had followed megumi back inside the door opposite yours.

he hadn’t noticed you then, perhaps that had been the reason why he’d given you an odd look when you took the empty seat beside him on the carpet.

“you’re not allowed here.”

“‘course i am!” you replied, smiling as you sat just like him — criss-cross-apple-sauce.

you smoothed out the creases on your dress as he gave you a blank look.

“you’ll get in trouble,” he informed you as though you’d been blissfully unaware (to him, it seemed like you were).

“if you keep saying stuff like that it means that you care if i — if i get in trouble so yeah.”

he gave you a look of disgust before he turned to face the board in front of the two of you, apparently careless.

“i don’t,” he said, with a tone of finality.

you shrugged, humming to yourself as you tightened the pigtails in your hair. you liked to think that he did care, even if it was quite obvious that he did not.

as the rest of the class had nearly finished filing in and taking their seats on the carpet, ms turner had sat on the chair by the teacher’s desk, looking around at you all. you watched as her big, round eyes had passed you naturally, before they’d darted back to you in surprise.

“y/n?” she voiced aloud.

megumi let out a scoff.

“told you,” he muttered, a hand over his mouth as he rested an elbow on his knee; you ignored him.

“yes miss?” you said, as though you were unaware of what was happening.

ms turner tilted her head at you, brows knitted together.

“why are you here?” she asked you, with genuine curiosity. there was no bite in her question either.

“i don’t want to draw and colour things because i think it’s boring,” you answered truthfully. “and i don’t like the ginger lady in my class so yeah. and i like painting and i like the thingy with the water paints.”

“does miss huckleberry know you’re here?”

you shook your head.

but perhaps that had been a mistake, for you had been walked back to your classroom once more (your protests fell on deaf ears).

however, that hadn't stopped you from constantly going back, returning once more to the seat beside megumi. 

the second time you had wrongly and happily entered his classroom, you made your way down to the carpet space, ready to occupy the usually-vacant seat next to megumi, only to find that the seat had been used by megumi's knee. he'd still been sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce, of course, yet his right knee had been extended to the point where a little more than half the space had been taken.

he looked up at you once he had noticed your shadow fall over his lap. he moved his knee back in place, a blank look on his face as he did so.

"did you just put your foot on that seat?" you asked, a brow raised in disgust.

"... ye—"

"well now i can't sit there because i don't know where your foot has been and it might be dirty," you said, walking around him to sit on the vacant seat on his left instead.

his eyes followed you as you moved. you could not gauge out the expression on his face: megumi was simply too hard to read, and it bothered you a bit, but not enough to make you complain too much.

it had taken a total of twenty minutes and fifty-one seconds before you'd been spotted and then escorted out of the classroom that day.

on another random day, a similar scenario had occurred where you'd been dropped off at your actual classroom by your mother, but you swerved past the door to enter the one opposite. your mother had not questioned it, deciding that during school hours, you were not her responsibility (thank god).

when you walked over to the carpet-space, you'd seen that megumi had already arrived, only, his hand was now facing palm-down on your favourite seat. you approached him as you passed a disheartened girl (inaya farhat) who'd just had a short conversation with megumi.

he looked up at you, slowly removing his hand and placing it back on his lap.

"did you just put your hand on my seat?" you asked, disgusted once again.

he glared at you. 

"yes."

the way in which he was glaring at you had you concerned (just the slightest bit). the intensity behind the way in which he looked at you had also frightened you, he looked as though you had insulted his entire family (arguably, you were nearly there).

"erm — yeah, so i hope your hand's not dirty," you said, leisurely sitting down on your designated seat. "like — like picking your nose or scratching your bum —"

"i'm not veera," said megumi. 

you frowned.

"who's veera?"

megumi faced the board, answering without sparing you another glance. 

"if you stay in this class, you'll find out."

and you did.

you had remained in the class for days after that. it became so normalised for you to be there, that even your mother would drop you off at the opposite door of your original class without question: at some point that month, your full name had been transferred from register-to-register — megumi hadn't been bothered by that, but he became quite aggressive when you kept rubbing it in his face:

"remember when you said i wasn't allowed to —"

"i get it!"

on one particular afternoon, where parents and carers were allowed to enter the classroom and observe the work their kids had done in their respective books before collecting them, you had found yourself in a sticky situation.

after megumi's father had come in (and quite literally stood at the back and simply nodded his head at his son in acknowledgment), you and megumi had gotten into a heated debate about which types of books were better. where you were more interested in fiction and fake reality, megumi argued that non-fiction and actuality was better.

you strongly disagreed, so you attempted to prove your point by leading him to the book corner and pulling out some of your personal favourites, one of them being 'the hungry caterpillar'.

"i like this one," you told him, handing the book over to him. he looked skeptical as he flipped through the pages. "and you can't say it's not even real because it is."

"hmph," said megumi, looking grumpy.

he didn't look as displeased with your suggestions as he usually did, so you decided that you'd won him over.

"what else?" he asked.

you beamed, hurriedly bending down to where you'd hidden your most precious book. your little hand plunged itself underneath the shelf and searched for it with earnest, pulling it out once you'd felt its laminated cover beneath your skin.

"this one," you said, standing back up and presenting it to him. again, he looked skeptical, but you had won him over once, surely you could do it a second time? "noisy nora."

he took the book from your hands and, like before, skimmed through it. his face scrunched up in disgust.

"that one is my most bestest book in the whole wide wor—"

"rats can't speak."

you looked up; megumi was stoic.

your smile had turned to a scowl.

"well jokes on you, nora's not a rat. she's a mouse."

megumi ignored you, going over to his side of the book corner where the non-fiction books were kept and pulled out a large one, pages thin and smooth. he turned around and showed it to you as you bent back down and shoved 'noisy nora' back under the book shelf.

from where you were sat on your knees, you could see that the title of megumi's book read 'how a caterpillar turns into a butterfly'.

you stood back up again, analysing the cover.

"looks boring," you commented.

"it's real."

"'the hungry caterpillar' tells a real story."

you walked away from the book corner and megumi followed, still looking very unimpressed with your opinion on his most favourite book.

however, as you aimed to make your way to the toy box, you stopped just as you'd entered the carpet space at the sound of a baby. your face formed an expression of confusion. what was a baby doing here at the kindergarten?

you turned in the direction of where the sound was coming from. megumi had been quietly complaining about something, but his discontent had fallen on deaf ears, for your eyes were focused on the blonde, snotty child wobbling towards you, her blue eyes wide with excitement.

spit bubbled at the corner of her mouth, the same mouth that was slowly taking in all the snot running down her nose.

your eyes widened, horrified at the sight before you. the sight that was slowly reaching you.

"ew," you said, watching as the child wobbled and clapped her hands — one hand gripped onto a baby-blue pacifier.

"ew..." you repeated, when the same child had dropped her pacifier on the floor.

"EW!" you cried, when the child locked eye contact with you and waddled closer.

"veeraaa!" the child sang, voice high as she nearly toppled over with her uneven balance. some of her spit had dropped onto the floor, gooey and... was that a tint of green?

"EWWWW!" you cried, making an attempt to run away but realising that megumi was behind you, resistant to your constant pushing. "OH MY GOD — OH MY GOD —"

your cries had caught the attention of nearly everyone else in the room, wondering what had been causing such a ruckus.

you felt like crying when the disgusting baby still managed to walk.

"veeeraaaaa —"

"EEEEEWWWWWWW!" you shouted, struggling to push megumi away so you could run.

the blonde kid was nearly a whole metre away from you now, giggling and singing her own name.

you'd had enough — a metre was simply too close for you.

"hey — what're you —"

yelling out your disgust, your hands grabbed onto megumi and pulled him in front of you, pushing him towards the child and practically using him as a human shield. better him than you, you'd concluded.

"veeeeraaaa!"

"AAAHH — EWWWW!"

"veeeraaa —"

"what the hell?" snapped megumi, taking several steps back in an attempt to distance himself from veera.

slowly, the disgust that you held had somehow divided so that the rest of the kids held the same sentiment. all of your classmates had begun screaming: 'ew's could be heard all around you: kids made attempts to jump over tables and chairs to get away from the blonde baby, parents were used as hiding objects so their children could stand behind them, and the blonde baby turned her attention elsewhere, approaching ruth smith who burst into tears when she waddled over to him.

the baby looked at you and megumi again. amongst all the screaming and yelling, yours still managed to be the loudest.

"EEEWW!" you cried, pushing megumi forward again. he was resistant. "MEGUMI —"

"veeeeraaa," veera sang, as sofia rylee shouted at you to run. "veeeraaa —"

"my name's megumi," said megumi, sounding annoyed and offended.

the commotion had slowly started to end when another blonde woman (who you assumed was veera's mother) ran over and picked her up, holding her in her arms as she stared at you, looking very, very offended.

you didn't care. that child of hers was disgusting, this should be a lesson to her, you had decided.

and somehow you were left out of breath, panting and exhaling as the woman turned and left, followed by miss huckleberry who had appeared out of thin air.

"that was scary," you commented, a hand pressed against your chest dramatically. "so scary."

megumi had finally turned around and regarded you with a glare.

"oh yeah?" he challenged, angry. "did you get pushed to her?"

your hand been returned back to your side.

"i had to save myself!" you explained, unable to understand megumi's anger towards you. "you would do the same!"

"no i wouldn't," said megumi. "you had more than enough room to run."

his arm had been extended to present to you the space that you neglected.

before you could respond, miss huckleberry's voice had cut through the air sharply.

"mr fushiguro!" she'd said, and both you and megumi had looked up to see what had happened.

megumi's dad was leaning against the wall, which may have looked rather innocent... till you'd squinted your eyes and caught him smiling. when miss huckleberry had appeared from chasing after the woman that had left, affronted, you had no idea, but she was here, and condemning megumi's father for his silent actions.

megumi's father simply shrugged, and megumi himself walked away, apparently embarrassed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

you and megumi found yourself seated at your specific spaces on the carpet, arguing about a situation that had occurred merely a day prior. ever since the veera incident, everyone in your new class seemed to know your name (and just how you were like). the news had also somehow travelled to your original class, and during play time, kimberly had asked what had happened: you brushed it off, claiming that any allegations against you were untrue.

that same day, you'd even waltzed back into your old classroom saying that you no longer wanted to be part of the other class, your disgust with veera taking over any other conscious part of your mind. miss huckleberry hadn't been impressed:

"no, y/n," she'd said, sounding firm. "go back to your class."

"that's not my class anymore," you'd attempted to persuade her. you looked at megumi, who had been giving you an odd look from the door. you approached him and pulled his arm. "c'mon megumi, let's go together!"

he had not complied.

that led you to the discussion you'd been having with megumi now, both stubborn in your points.

"you never got in trouble," you told megumi, scoffing when he'd told you about how miss huckleberry had given him an earful (though apparently, she'd been a lot more gentle about it than she had with you).

"i did," said megumi, defiant. he looked away, a hand resting over his mouth to muffle his final comment. "my stupid dad didn't help either."

"what was that?"

"nothing."

"oh okay."

it hadn't taken long for the rest of the class to follow, the carpet space now being taken up by the bottoms of each and every individual that had attended the kindergarten that day.

usually the class would start by singing a nursery rhyme together (megumi would turn extra grumpy during those) but on that particular day, miss turner had decided to do something different. you had noticed how smiley she'd been that morning, but had never questioned it: she looked rather pretty when she smiled. 

"so instead of our usual nursery rhymes..." she began, creating suspense, "we're going to do something a little more special today!"

you all looked at each other, confused and excited. you felt giddy in your seat, your legs shaking in anticipation. when you'd looked at megumi, you could see the interest in his face even if he tried his best to hide it.

"so all of you are going to partner up with somebody, it can be anyone you like," said miss turner, arms spread out to represent you all, "and together, you'll make a story! it can be about anything you want, anything in the big wide world. does everyone understand?"

everyone nodded excitedly, several 'yes's could be heard as everyone had stood up, looking around for partners. you'd seen cameron peterski and kamenova petrova hold hands and skip away. you walked into the huddle of peers, spinning on the spot in an attempt to make eye contact with one of the girls.

zuri camara had come into view, and you had half a mind to ask her to be partners with you, only, you'd been reminded of the time when she had worn your costume (it was the school's property, but everyone knew that dress was practically owned by you).

so you turned away, back towards her as you approached your seat once more. megumi had been standing by it, looking at you and promptly ignoring denis ivanov, who'd been attempting to catch his attention. you grinned, skipping forward and pulling megumi by the arm.

"megumi you're my partner because i said so!"

he did not respond, but you found that pulling him to the table on the far right had been much easier than you'd expected. 

"okay so i want to make a story about a princess —"

"no."

you frowned at him, pulling the a4 sheet of paper towards you. megumi had the pencil in his hand, still out of reach. 

"what do you want to write about, dinosaurs then?" you mocked him, rolling your eyes. "oh — oh i forgot — you'll probably say it's not even real right?"

megumi, with his fingers still protecting the pencil from your clutches, stared at you, deadpanned.

"they were real," he said, matter-of-factly. "they were alive sixty five million, billion... trillion years ago."

you scoffed, unsure of whether to believe him or not. you decided not to question him, with his history of constantly being right, you knew better than to make a fool of yourself again.

"i want to make a story about a caterpillar turning into a butterfly."

"that is the most boring-est, boring story ever," you stated, unimpressed. "in the whole wide world."

megumi scowled at you. you continued.

"and everyone's gonna fall asleep like this, look." 

you demonstrated the snoring of what you imagined your peers would do at the sound of megumi's story, your forehead falling flat on the table and your pretend snores being very loud. you raised your head once more, noticing how megumi hadn't been looking. persistent, you grabbed onto his face and turned it to face you.

"you're not looking, look!"

you imitated it again, ignoring the way he'd slapped your hand off his face. your pretend snores had grown louder and megumi did not look pleased.

"you sound like a pig," he said, coldly.

"well — well you are just a rude-o."

"not a word."

"but my mommy says —"

however you had been cut off by megumi's stern look, one that practically screamed 'don't try it'.

"fine," you said, sighing. "let's play scissors-paper-rock."

"you mean rock-paper-scissors?"

you made a motion of almost choking the dark-haired boy, but stopped yourself despite your frustrations. and all the while, megumi had not once flinched. instead, he'd given you a look of annoyance. 

rock-paper-scissors had not gone well with you. you'd played three rounds, and after losing two out of the three, you'd begged to play another round, upset with your chances of losing. megumi had refused, but surprisingly, had agreed to meet you half-way, offering a compromise. 

"it's still about caterpillars and butterflies," said megumi, firmly, "but you can..." he sighed, looking as though it were physically hurting him to speak. "you can... make it less... real."

you beamed, clapping your hands excitedly and then making an attempt to grab the pencil from him once more. megumi immediately recoiled, pulling it away from you with a sharp gaze.

"but not too much," he said.

shortly after, you and megumi had started writing out your story. however, it hadn't gone as easy as you had initially expected: the road to completing the plot of your story was long and bumpy, you had been met with several obstacles along the way.

"moths can't be friends with butterflies," megumi said after you'd explained the introduction of a new character (the moth).

"you said i could make it how i want!" you argued, defensive. "well that just — that just — it means that you're just a liar then."

"says the biggest liar in this class —"

"MIIIIIIIISS!"

but that hadn't been the only issue:

"that's not how you spell 'caterpillar'," megumi commented, peering over your shoulder after he'd reluctantly handed the pencil over to you.

you looked down at your writing: cadrrpileer.

"that's not how you spell 'butterfly'."

again, you looked down at your writing: buddrflee.

"that's not how you spell moth."

once more, you looked down at your writing: moff.

irritated, you slammed the pencil down over the paper and slid the sheet over to megumi.

"well maybe you should write then!"

megumi made no complaints about taking the pencil.

"you were begging to write."

"yeah well — well — well i don't need a negative nancy next to me all them times i keep writing."

"that... made no sense."

"just write fushigo!"

"fushi-guro."

your assigned hour had been up, and when everyone had been seated on the carpet once more — rehearsing their lines in preparation to present — you and megumi read over the paper you had over and over again. really, you believed that you could recite the story without the paper, but megumi had been insistent on keeping the paper just in case.

he'd been very angry when you'd volunteered to go first together after miss turner had asked 'does anyone want to start us off?'.

so the two of you found yourself standing at the front of the class, clearing your throats in preparation. the classroom looked extremely big from where you'd been standing. having all eyes trained on you felt odd, but you were confident that your story would surprise them all.

"once upon a time, there was two caterpillars," you began, slowly.

"were," corrected megumi, shaking the sheet of paper. he'd turned to where miss turner was sitting at her desk. "miss she's not following the script."

miss turner’s brows had raised at megumi’s comment, visibly surprised. it was understandable, you concluded, for it was not as though the partners had been assigned — they were chosen. how had the two of you already fallen into a dark pit of issues?

"megumi, we can still continue with the story, it's fine," said miss turner, just as you'd stared at megumi with an affronted expression.

the rest of the class did not seem phased by the sudden intrusion, still patiently waiting for the story to continue seeing as it had barely even started yet.

"anyways… after one day, one of the caterpillars turned into a beautiful butterfly," you explained, your arms spread wide to suggest just how pretty you had imagined the butterfly to be.

"the other caterpillar is left behind —"

"yeah that caterpillar's slow for some reason," you interrupted, shrugging when megumi glared at you, waving the paper to remind you of the script.

you slapped the paper, holding back a laugh when megumi's glare had hardened (if possible).

he hastily took a step away from you as though you’d burned him and the paper in his hand. he cleared his throat; you could tell he was irritated.

"the caterpillar doesn't recognise the butterfly anymore," said megumi, sounding way too blunt for your liking.

there were gasps in the audience, and you watched as everyone's big eyes remained focused on you and megumi. you smiled toothily.

"but — like — later, the butterfly makes the caterpillar remember," you added, for once, following the script as megumi cautiously held the paper up for you to read from. "and they're still best friends. but then butterfly meets another butterfly, and they become best friends too!"

"the caterpillar feels left out and then meets the moth," said megumi, staring at the audience with a blank expression. "and they become friends even though that's not even real."

you turned to miss turner, feeling insulted that megumi had the audacity to snitch on you when he had basically done the same thing.

"miss, that wasn't in the script."

miss turner sighed, shaking her head at you with a smile. "guys."

"okay, okay!" you said. "megumi, say it."

"the caterpillar goes inside the cocoon," he said on your command, though he'd been resisting the urge to add 'the only real part'.

"afterwards, after a very, very, very, very, very long time," you said, attempting to create suspense, though you could feel megumi's eyes digging holes in your cheek to get you to hurry up, "the butterfly is not friends with the other butterfly anymore."

"the moth flies away and the caterpillar comes out but oh no it's not a caterpillar anymore," recited megumi, reading from the paper, monotoned. he looked up, making eye contact with the audience. "i didn't write that."

you snatched the paper from him, annoyed with his lack of effort in bringing emotion to the story.

"but oh no!" you read, enthusiasm in your voice as you expressed how disheartened the narrator should have been, "it's not a caterpillar anymore!"

"i just said that."

"porcupine!" you snapped. you handed him the paper again, smiling at the audience, unaware of the glare he was directing at you. "the caterpillar is now a butterfly, and the other butterfly doesn't re— re— rec—"

"recognise —"

"yeah that — the butterfly!" you finished off, grateful for megumi's intervention.

"and that's the end of the story," stated megumi.

you grinned. "the end!"

an awkward silence had followed after that. megumi had scrunched up the paper in his small fist, which had been the only noise in the room full of pin-drop silence. all of the kids had been staring at you, as if waiting for you to yell out 'just kidding!' and then continue the story, but it had become quite clear that that wouldn't happen, especially when the two of you glanced at miss turner to prove that you'd finished your lovely story.

"tha— that's the end?" asked miss turner, brown eyes darting from you to megumi and back again, expectantly.

you nodded.

"yep."

"yeah."

"but what happened to the butterflies?" someone had called out — it was noah fisher.

"nothing," you answered.

but it seemed that your classmates’ interest in your story had not been completely satisfied.

"did they not realise each other?" hayley bergmann called out, looking upset and curious.

"no," said megumi, straight-forward.

"why?" said christian de groot.

"because — because — that's just how it is," you shrugged.

"life is sad," commented megumi.

another silence had followed after that, till miss turner had finally come to the acceptance that your story truly had ended the way it did.

"okay, well... that's y/n and megumi's story, guys! round of applause!"

but the giant applause you'd been waiting for had not arrived. instead, the claps were slow, out of beat, and awkward, as if they were still in shock and denial about the ending of your story.

irked, your brows had furrowed deeply, your arms folded across your chest as you demanded them to "clap!".

and they did, at some point, and you'd stepped back again, standing side-by-side with megumi, a smile finally gracing your delicate features.

"look, porcupine! they're clapping for us!"

“it’s not like you barked at them to or anything,” grunted megumi, and as though he’d been slapped with knowledge, he glared at you. “and stop calling me that.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

your teachers did not believe you when you told them that you much preferred to stay indoors than go outside. you didn't understand how they'd come to that conclusion when even in the kindergarten, your time was always spent more by the bookshelf than outside in the playground. the only time that you’d actively seek to go outside for a change was when the bikes were free to use (though sometimes your impatience would force the other kids to simply give up and get off the bikes for you).

so when your mother had called you over at the sound of the doorbell (which you had promptly ignored for the sake of watching your favourite cartoons) you audibly groaned, but obediently switched the tv off and made your way over to the front door.

surprised, perplexed, yet pleased, you’d been met with the sight of megumi standing by the door across from your mother, a soccer ball in his hands and sporting the same stoic expression as per usual.

your mother looked very confused, almost as though megumi was not real — as though someone had been playing a sick trick on her. someone really wants to play with that kid? she’d thought in her head when megumi had asked if you were free to play in the neighbourhood.

you skipped past your mom, tightening the ribbon in your hair and smiling. you looked up at her, ready to inform her of the fact that you would stay in the area and not run off (even if you had the carnal desire to give her a good scare).

“i’m just gonna play with megumi okay?” you told her, and though it’d been posed as a question, you knew it was a statement.

you’d ignored the odd look she’d given both you and megumi, her eyes darting from you to him and back again.

“megumi?” said mom, gazing at the dark-haired boy with curiosity. she could have sworn that he had been the very child you’d been annoyed with not even a month ago.

you sighed, irritated.

“i won’t run away like last time mommy.”

megumi gave you a pointed look. you narrowed your eyes at him.

“it was on — it was on accident.” you turned to your (still very confused) mother. “i’ll just play with megumi now so yeah.”

but she looked as though she had missed several pages on a very interesting book she’d been reading. megumi spoke up not too long after.

“my mom said she’ll watch us.”

and whether that had been to comfort your own mother (the woman still kept the same expression on her face) or to hurry things up, you never knew, for you’d grown very impatient and simply couldn’t wait any longer. you stepped outside and waved goodbye to your mom, who raised her hand in what she probably thought was a wave back, though it looked like anything but.

that day, megumi’s mother had walked you back to your home just before sunset, your sour mood now dissipated.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

bonus scene:

"a toast to the academic year of two-thousand-seven-to-eight being officially completed!"

clink!

clink!

clink!

the staff room meant for the kindergarten teachers had been packed. the teachers sat around a squared table, drinks in hand and food scattered around as though the queen were to arrive at any passing second. some teachers were standing up, others were sitting. all, however, had made a toast to the end of the academic year.

the main two teachers of both classes had sat together at the head of the stable: miss huckleberry and miss turner. every other teacher that had played the role as the assistant or substitute had been present too.

"can we talk about how this was probably the hardest year to manage?" said miss huckleberry, but only after taking a giant gulp of whatever sparkling drink she'd chosen to quench her thirst.

there were several murmurs of agreement. mr adams (who had been a consecutive substitute for miss huckleberry's class during september) had practically shouted out his agreement.

"you don't know how many times i had to deal with a child crying because they've got 'the booger touch'," miss huckleberry announced, sighing.

"what even is that?" one of the first aid nurses asked.

"i wish i knew."

a lot of the teachers laughed, speaking in hushed tones on their theories of what the 'booger touch' is and how it even started. the teacher assistant for miss huckleberry's class had spoken up during that time.

"wait, but, can i tell you what i found the most weirdest thing back in... i don't know... october-ish?"

she tucked a messy strand of her ginger hair behind her ears as the others looked up with mild interest.

"the oddest pair on this planet," she'd started, "megumi and y/n."

"no you mean y/n and megumi," laughed miss turner, who had finally voiced her own opinion seeing as the two kids had been in her class for the previous year; meanwhile there'd been a chorus of laughter and yells of agreement from all the other teachers.

"yep, for sure —"

"never thought i'd see them being friends —"

"two completely different people —"

"wait, wait! wait! was megumi the kid with that grumpy face twenty-four-seven?" asked mr jenkins, raising the hand that was holding his glass of champagne to emphasise his confusion.

the teachers nodded in response; he laughed boisterously.

"yeah i never saw that coming, that kid never wanted to play with anyone!"

miss turner smiled. "he was a little... anti-social."

"he was more than anti-social," interrupted miss huckleberry. "i had to deal with so many crying kids because of him."

"i don't know how he ended up being friends with y/n of all people," said ms begum, adjusting the green hijab on her head. she had been the substitute for miss turner's class whenever she'd been ill.

"right?" laughed mr adams.

miss huckleberry shook her head. "that kid was a menace."

"oh don't say that!" scolded miss turner, tapping miss huckleberry's arm firmly. "she was so bubbly and funny!"

"but it makes sense!" said the first aid nurse, picking up a chocolate cupcake and taking a small bite out of it.

several teachers disagreed, shaking their heads and voicing their thoughts.

"no, hear — hear me out!" she called out, struggling to speak with the cupcake. she swallowed and then continued. "y/n was always really loud and social and talkative and — you get the idea, but megumi wasn't. for lack of better word, y/n was a menace on her own but megumi wasn't exactly like that... and when they ended up being friends —"

"i see it now," hummed ms begum, pouring herself some of the apple juice. "does everyone remember the veera incident?"

she had barely completed the last syllable before the teachers had spoken over each other again, loud and excited. miss turner laughed, but miss huckleberry had rolled her eyes.

"do i remember? i had to deal with the mother!" she exclaimed, her drink now completely finished. she poured herself another full glass.

"before y/n got moved to your class," said the nurse, gesturing to miss turner, "any time veera came over, the kids were fine. megumi was fine."

"okay but let's be honest," said mr adams, slowly. "that veera child made me want to vomit —"

"william!"

"mr adams!"

"i can't deny it, i'm sorry! it is what it is!" mr adams spoke up over the teachers. "that child needed to learn hygiene first!”

although there were many shouts of protests, it could be heard how weak they'd sounded, almost as though the teachers wanted to disagree, but logically, they could not. picturing the child in question only made mr johnson actually gag.

"but who would you say is worse, y/n or megumi?" asked the teacher assistant. "y/n for sure."

"agreed."

"definitely y/n."

"but y/n's never actually made a kid cry —"

"yes she has!"

"but so has megumi."

"i think the point is," said mrs holly, placing a watermelon slice on her paper plate, "that they are definitely the oddest duo we've seen in teaching so far."

"i think they made the year so much more tiring," sighed miss huckleberry.

following her statement, there were sighs of agreement. some teachers had promptly disagreed, claiming that the duo had, in turn, made teaching a little more fun. miss turner had stated that you were a wonderful addition to her class. ever since you had joined, megumi was a little more spoken.

"but megumi," added mr johnson, pinching the bridge of his nose, "that child — is he even a child?"

mrs holly laughed at that.

"whatever do you mean?" she'd asked, biting back a smile despite her obvious curiosity.

"well we all know his favourite quote," chortled miss turner, actually heartily laughing when some of the teachers had quoted him simultaneously.

"'that's not even real'!"

they all burst into fits of chuckles and laughter, some teachers having lagged behind on the quote and finishing a little while after (mr adams had practically sang the quote).

mrs holly, still chuckling, referred back to her initial question.

"so what about that makes him unlike a regular child?"

"THE KID READS NON-FICTION BOOKS, come on!"

"and i can't remember a single time where we all sat together in a circle for story time and megumi didn't mutter 'that's not even real' — 'birds don't talk' — under his breath," said miss huckleberry, helping herself to some of the desserts placed on the silver platter. "menace."

"can confirm," nodded miss turner. "but i rarely ever had to actually scold him. y/n would do it for me."

"one thing about y/n," said ms begum, trying not to laugh mid-sentence, "was that she always kept megumi in check."

"no," said mr jenkins. "i'd argue that he kept her in check."

"nobody can keep y/n in check. not even her own mother," ms begum responded curtly.

"no, i think that was the issue," said mr adams thoughtfully. "they're both so different, they tried keeping each other in check. but then that always led to them fighting."

"fighting?"

"i thought they were friends?"

"again: odd duo."

mr adams shook his head. "they were weirdos. they'd argue for a second, and then be friends after."

miss turner nodded. "true. did i ever tell you guys about their book wars?"

"no —"

"no? —"

"i've seen it happen," said the first aid nurse. "they'd fight over their favourite books and then because they both have completely different tastes —"

"the only time i can say y/n acts like a normal child," miss huckleberry whispered, her voice hushed.

"— they'd end up actually fighting each other."

the teacher assistant rolled her eyes. "should we all take a guess on who hit who first?"

"y/n —"

"no question: y/n —"

"definitely y/n —"

"ally?" said mrs holly, asking for confirmation from your class teacher: miss turner nodded.

all the adults in the room sighed, laughed, and commented their thoughts: it was mainly not a surprise to either one of them that you chose to get physical first — you were rather 'passionate', as mr jenkins had put it.

"but you know, the surprising thing was," said miss turner, louder than the other voices in the room in order to grab everyone's undivided attention, "megumi seemed to always let her."

mr johnson frowned, walking around the staff room to get the cinnamon rolls on the farthest end of the table. "let her what?"

"hit him," answered miss turner, as each of their faces presented their shock:

miss huckleberry's brows had raised notably, ms begum had tilted her head with her brows furrowed in obvious uncertainty, and mr jenkins' face morphed into an expression that quite literally screamed 'not possible'. but it had not been them who had voiced their thoughts following the amazing revelation.

"i wholeheartedly believe you," said the nurse, nodding her head leisurely. at the sight of all the other unresponsive teachers (save for the murmuring between mr adams and mrs holly), the nurse had decided that an explanation was due. "back in january, you know james? the kid with the buzzcut?"

the other teachers nodded, some remained unacquainted with said boy yet waved their hands to have the nurse continue anyway.

"he hit megumi over something stupid — can't remember. but megumi didn't just let that slide: i had a sobbing james sitting in my office with a bruised up eye!"

"yes, i remember that," mumbled miss turner, a hand on her chin as she rested her elbow on the table; meanwhile the others were gasping and exchanging odd looks. "not my favourite megumi moment, to be fair."

"he could have done the same to y/n," shrugged the nurse. "i know he could."

"arguably, y/n is a scary girl," said mr john, lowly. "what — don't look at me like that — she terrified me sometimes! and i've seen the way she fought that other kid — what's his name —"

"clarke!" said miss huckleberry, "yes, it was clarke!"

"irrespective of who she's beaten up," tutted the nurse, rolling her grey eyes, "it's clear that megumi has always had the potential to do what he did to james, to her. he just never did."

"that's why i said she kept him in check," added ms begum, a finality in her tone as she gazed at mr jenkins with a raised brow.

"anyway, when y/n moved to your class, ally, i never bothered trying to get her back," said miss huckleberry, pushing her glass of whatever sparkling drink she'd chosen away from herself.

"i could tell," miss turner responded, smiling despite it all.

mr adams laughed. "i still don't know how she somehow managed to sneak back into your class and throw apple juice on —"

the very person you'd thrown apple juice on (and accused them of pissing themselves) had now looked up, alert and embarrassed. the teacher assistant who you had declared war on months prior now felt tears welling up in her eyes as she stood up, glaring at mr adams as everyone averted their gazes awkwardly.

"we all promised not to ever mention that again," she said, bottom lip wobbling as she walked around the table to get to the door despite all the teachers calling her back. she ignored them as she reached the door.

"oh, come on, poppy!"

"he didn't mean it like that —"

"yeah, come back!"

"why would you mention something like that?" she weeped, her face a dark shade of red that did much to conceal her dotted freckles. she opened the door, her body half-in and half-out. "why would you say that when you know it surrounds us all in negativity —"

but before mr adams could backtrack on his comment (and his laughter) the teacher assistant had already left the room.

they all sighed:

even after your departure, you had still managed to cause problems somehow.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

next chapter :)

notes: chapter 2 will take a little while to get out but i swear it will be released at some point!

© tojiscrack (previously ack4rwoman)

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

if you enjoyed my writing, i’d really appreciate it if you tipped me — tumblr no longer has the tip function, so maybe here in my tip jar :)

[willthespy]

In TSATS do you think the nicknames Will and Nico use for one another like serious or them just taking the piss out of each other?

i honestly think theyre trying to embarrass each other more than mean it seriously and its just. a thing they do (so definitely the second one)

like readers will say “ugh theyre so cringe” but im sure solangelo themselves r aware it is cringe and embarrassing for the other (mostly nico if i remember correctly) and thats why they do it

theyre not going around seriously talking to each other like: “oh honey boo, pumpkin patch, sweet, summer, sticky, strawberry pie with whipped cream and GAY. RAINBOW. SPRINKLES.”

kinda like with percabeth except slightly worse because they want to be worse yk

[tactical-jellyfish]

Masterlist

For Joanna:

Synopsis: Nikolai has been trying to find the right person to repair his beloved helicopter for a while too long, now. And then, he meets you.

Status: Completed!

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Watcher 1-1:

Synopsis: You used to be a star member of the Task Force 141. Good things never seem to last, and change paves over your old friendships. Now, the only issue is that those old friendships are staring at you across the table, with anger in their eyes.

The Mistakes That Have Been Made

Synopsis: Sometimes, things don't work out. Sometimes, you're going to be the idiot on the wrong end of a deal. It hurts the most when you're training the next idiot in line.

Drabbles: Winding Down

Fiber Arts S/O!

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Sleep. || Simon "Ghost" Riley fluff

[MY MASTERLIST]

Rating: G Words: 1K~ CW: none Tags: ghostxreader, fluff!!!, gn!reader (you/your pronouns), light angst/plot twist at the end. Summary: Neither of you can sleep. Comforting and Cuddling ensues. a/n: I saw this in a vision. That's it. That's the tweet.

A knock on your door stirred you awake. Not that you were actually sleeping. Sitting up in bed, you inquired a loud “Hm?!” in response to the knock.

You didn’t need to ask who it was. Only one man in this whole godforsaken base would dare make his way to your room at 1:48 AM on a Thursday and disturb your (not) sleeping.

As such, there was no need to haphazardly throw on a face covering of some kind while making your way to the door hastily. So you simply remained sat amidst the pile of blankets of your hard wooden bed.

The door popped open with a light woosh and he stepped inside the room without a word. In the few seconds that he was illuminated from behind by the hall light, you saw nothing but a hulking silhouette carrying a rolled-up sleeping bag under one arm, and a ratty pillow under the other.

The door closed, letting it all return to darkness again. He blended with the nothingness of the room quite well. The only reason you knew where he was, was due to his footsteps, his workboots making rhythmic thuds on the vinyl flooring of your room.

You heard the rustling of the sleeping bag as he rolled it out on the floor, so close to your bed that he could probably slide his way under it if he felt like it (and if he fit). Then, he tossed his pillow down onto the sleeping bag with a light thud.

His clothes rustled in the darkness as he laid down on the bag and then he let out a soft huff muffled by the mask you knew he was undoubtedly wearing.

He wasn’t even lying inside the bag. You certainly didn’t hear him unzip it… He didn’t try to fit his enormous height inside the standard-issue bag, which would likely fit him like a potato sack to a kid trying to win a sack race… aka hanging loosely around his chest as he clings on for dear life.

You allowed yourself to lay down too, snuggling onto the warm blankets again as you fixed them atop you.

For a while, there was just silence, unsettling, deep silence that you could feel in your bones… And the pair of deep breaths in the air.

“You alright?” You asked, almost checking up on him.

“Dandy.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Nope.”

“Mkay.”

Another long period of silence.

You knew better than to question Simon on his decisions. Not that coming to sleep on the floor beside your bed like a dog at its owner's feet isn't quite the head-scratcher.

“Does my company help with the lack of sleep?” You found yourself asking.

“No.”

“Hm.”

You considered your curiosity sated, or at least, sated enough to allow you to go back to (fruitlessly) attempt to fall aslee-

“I just like hearin’ you breathe.”

The blankets rustled as you abruptly rolled over, your head hanging your head over the edge of the bed to peer at him forgetting that, in the darkness, you can’t see shit, let alone see him on the floor.

“Need to know I’m alive?” You tease sarcastically.

“Need to know you 'aven’t been kidnapped in the night more like.” His tone is dry and sincere.

You just let out a single dry chuckle. "Alright.”

You make no motion to return to your previous spot. You just keep looking at the empty darkness of the floor where Simon is lying.

“Y’wanna come up here?”

“You askin’ me to share a bed?”

“Mhm.”

“No.”

“Why?

“It’s stupid.”

“You’re scared you’ll end up cuddlin’ me?”

“Not bloody scared. Just don’t wanna risk it.”

“We can sleep back to back.”

“I’ve seen how you sleep. You’re always on your stomach. The only way to sleep back to back with you is if I’m on top of you and suffocating you into the mattress.”

“You act as if that wouldn't be fun.” You quip.

No response.

You take a deep breath and finally roll over, turning to face the wall your bed is pressed up against.

There are no sounds besides breathing again. Long minutes go by with neither of you talking… and neither of you sleeping.

After having had enough, you huff.

“Get up here.”

He doesn't move immediately... But after a solid 10 seconds, there’s a rustling, and then comes the sound of laces being undone and his boots being slipped off and set aside.

Soon, you feel the warm blankets being lifted, momentarily exposing your back to the cold air outside of the comfy cocoon you've secured yourself. The mattress depresses behind you as he shifts his legs next to yours, and then he drapes the blankets around his own back.

It’s a bit of a tight fit. The standard-issue British Army beds are already on the narrow end for one Simon Riley lying on his back, so two people lying on their sides (one of them being Simon)… is cutting it very close.

But you don’t mind. In fact, he shuffles closer, his chest coming to press against your back, as he wordlessly spoons you from behind.

A smile graces your lips as you feel the strong and unrelenting muscles that compose all of Simon's body press against your softer build.

His robust, scarred arm slides over the dip at your waist and wraps around you tight, constricting you to him, as his big, calloused hand rests across both of your forearms near your face.

It should feel awkward... but surprisingly, it doesn't.

In return, one of your feet nudges against Simon's and so he slips his leg in between your own from behind, rolling you ever slightly over onto your tummy, so he can keep you 'lodged' between him and the mattress.

A soft, content sigh escapes your lips as you feel the pressure of his body pressing on yours, his weight reminding you that he's there, holding you.

It's... nice.

You never thought there'd ever come a day where you'd experience the mixing scents of his aftershave and his laundry detergent due to the balaclava he never lifts... Or the sound of his rhythmic breathing just behind your ear as he nuzzles into your hair... Or his heartbeat slowing and relaxing against your back.

You find that he fell asleep almost instantly upon holding you, finally lulled into the comfortable, safe sleep he so desperately lacked.

It's a shame that soon you'll have to kill him...

[yanderejustforyou]

Never Enough

Fandom: The Penguin (2024) Pairing: Sofia Falcone x Reader

The rain fell in relentless sheets, each drop a fat, cold hammer against the slick pavement. Gotham's neon signs, fractured and distorted through the downpour, painted the city in lurid, bleeding colors. It was a city perpetually shrouded in gloom, a place where the shadows felt heavier, the air thicker with unspoken betrayals. This city, with its labyrinthine alleys and towering skyscrapers, had a way of consuming people, stripping them bare and leaving only husks. It was the same city that had whispered promises of greatness, of purpose, a different life. But tonight, standing in the heart of its underbelly, you felt a chilling doubt. Had that promise been a cruel joke all along? Was this cold, unforgiving landscape all it had ever offered?

You stood now, the rain plastering your clothes to your skin, before her—Sofia Falcone. The very name sent a shiver tracing down your spine. She was the daughter of Carmine "The Roman" Falcone, the kingpin whose name echoed through the city's underbelly. More significantly, she was the woman who had woven herself into the very fabric of your being. It wasn't merely physical attraction, the magnetic pull of her dark, striking beauty. Nor was it just the intoxicating allure of power that clung to her like a second skin. It was something far deeper, a mirror reflecting the fractures in your own soul. You saw the same raw, aching vulnerability that hid beneath her carefully constructed mask. It was the broken pieces of her that called to the broken pieces of yourself, a silent, desperate plea echoing across the chasm between you.

"You shouldn’t be here," Sofia's voice cut through the storm's roar, each word sharp and cold as a shard of ice. It was a voice that could command armies and shatter hearts with equal ease. The cadence suggested a weary resignation, as if she'd spoken these words a thousand times before. "You know what this means, don’t you?" The question hung in the air, thick with unspoken threats and a bone-deep understanding of what was at stake.

Your breath hitched in your throat, the cold rain suddenly feeling like a physical weight. Her words pressed against your chest, each syllable a vise tightening around your heart. But the danger lurking in her tone, the palpable tension that crackled between you, wasn't the only thing that resonated. It was the rawness, the flicker of vulnerability that shone, however briefly, behind her calculated façade. It was that vulnerability that had always drawn you in, an irresistible siren’s song.

"I don’t care what it means," you said, the words trembling slightly, despite your desperate attempts at control. You had rehearsed this scenario countless times, imagined the words you would speak to her. Yet, faced with her icy gaze, your carefully planned bravado evaporated, revealing the stark truth beneath. "I can’t walk away from you, Sofia. I never could." The confession was raw, stripped bare of pretense - a testament to the deep hold she had on you.

She looked at you, her eyes the color of storm clouds, and you saw a kaleidoscope of emotions swirling beneath the surface. Confusion, pain, the deep, ingrained fear of allowing anyone to truly see her. You saw the wall she’d so diligently built, the carefully constructed barrier designed to keep everyone, especially you, at arm’s length. "You don’t understand," she said, her voice softer now, more fragile than you’d ever heard it. It was a whisper that bordered on a plea, a desperate attempt to convince herself as much as you. "You think you can fix me? You think you can save me from this life? It’s too late for me." Her tone carried a heavy weight of self-condemnation, a resigned acceptance of her own fate.

Instinctively, you reached out, your fingers brushing against the curve of her cheek. The contact sent a jolt through your system, an electric current that felt like both a lifeline and a death sentence. It was a burn so hot, so raw, that you had to pull back your hand, as if the intense heat would consume you entirely if you lingered. The physical sensation mirrored the burning conflict within both of you.

She looked at you, her gaze unflinching, as if she had anticipated the pain, the way your touch had managed to wound you both with its simple intimacy. It was a shared hurt, a silent testament to the impossibility of your connection.

“I never wanted this for you,” she whispered, the carefully constructed walls she had erected between you finally crumbling. The confession was a crack in her armor, revealing the woman beneath the hardened exterior. "I never wanted you to be a part of my world, because this world will ruin you." Her voice was laced with a raw vulnerability that tore at the very core of your being. It was an admission that brought with it a terrifying truth – her love for you was a burden, a curse she wished to spare you.

But you were already ruined, in ways you couldn't quite articulate. It had happened the moment you met her, the moment her darkness had entwined itself with your own. And even now, standing before the woman you loved, knowing that your very presence could be your mutual undoing, you were still unable to walk away. You were caught in her web, hopelessly, irrevocably.

“I’m already in your world, Sofia,” you said, your voice low and unwavering, your eyes locked on hers. It was a declaration, a promise you made not to her, but to yourself. “And no matter what happens, I’m not leaving.” The conviction in your voice was absolute, a defiant stand against a force that threatened to crush you both.

She closed her eyes, as if the sheer weight of your words were too much to bear. She was trying to shut you out, attempting to escape the undeniable pull of a love she knew was her own undoing. But even with her eyes tightly closed, a single tear escaped, tracing a glistening path down her cheek. It was that single tear that spoke volumes, a testament to the depth of the emotion buried beneath the surface, the feelings she had tried so desperately to suppress.

"You have no idea what you’re saying," she whispered, her voice a raw mixture of anguish and self-loathing. The pain in her voice was palpable, a confirmation of the darkness that plagued her. "I’ll destroy you, and I’ll destroy myself. It’s only a matter of time." Her words were a chilling prophecy, a stark warning of the future that awaited both of you. She had accepted her fate, resigned to a life where love was only a prelude to destruction.

And that was the truth, wasn’t it? You both knew it, deep within your bones. Your love was a doomed romance, a moth drawn to a flame, destined to be burned. No matter how much you tried to cling to it, no matter how bravely you fought for it, there would never be a happy ending for you. Your love story was a tragedy pre-written, a symphony of heartbreak playing out beneath the unforgiving gaze of Gotham’s neon lights.

The days that followed were nothing more than a blur of pain. Each moment spent with Sofia was like walking through fire. She kept her distance, kept her walls up, but the cracks were there—small, barely noticeable—but they were enough. Enough for you to see how deeply she was hurting. How much she was trying to push you away, yet how much she needed you.

But you couldn’t leave. You couldn’t.

Even when her father’s enemies circled closer. Even when the danger threatened to pull you both under.

One night, you found yourself in the back office of one of her father’s businesses. The air was thick with smoke, the tension palpable. Sofia stood at the desk, her fingers drumming nervously against the wood.

"You should leave," she said, without looking at you. Her voice was quiet, but the edge was unmistakable. "It’s not safe here."

“I’m not going anywhere, Sofia,” you said, your voice firm, but there was a tremor beneath it, betraying your own fear. "You can’t push me away."

Her eyes flicked to yours, dark and unreadable. "You don’t understand," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "You never will. You’re not a part of this life. You don’t belong here."

"I don’t belong anywhere without you," you said, your heart pounding as you took a step forward. "I’m not leaving you. I will never leave you."

Sofia’s breath hitched, and for a moment, you thought she might let her guard down. She might actually let you in. But then she did what she always did. She recoiled, pushing you away before you could get too close.

"You think this is love?" she asked bitterly, her words laced with scorn. "You think this is love when all I do is hurt everyone I touch? When all I do is destroy? How long do you think it’ll take before I destroy you too?"

You reached for her, but she flinched back, her face contorting with a mix of pain and rage. "You’re the one who’ll end up destroyed," she spat, her voice shaking with the weight of what she knew was coming. "This—this can’t end any other way."

You gritted your teeth, your chest tight with emotion. "I don’t care. I would rather be destroyed by you than live without you."

The silence between you two was suffocating, both of you caught in the tangled mess of love and hatred, of the past and the future that would never come. She was right—you were both doomed. But that didn’t change the fact that you would fight for her until there was nothing left.

The final time you saw Sofia, it was on a rain-soaked night much like the first. The world outside felt like it was crashing down around you, but even so, you walked toward her with that same defiance in your heart. You had never given up on her, even when you knew, deep down, that it was a lost cause.

She was standing by the window, staring out at the city. The same city that had both broken and shaped her into the woman she was. The same city that would swallow her whole, just like it would swallow you if you allowed it.

"Sofia," you whispered, your voice barely audible in the dim light. "I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I love you. I will always love you."

She didn’t turn around, but her body trembled. "Don’t," she said softly, her voice breaking. "Don’t say that. Don’t make this harder than it already is."

Your heart ached as you walked closer to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I can’t walk away from you, Sofia. I’ve tried. But I can’t. I won’t."

She turned around then, her eyes filled with unshed tears, her face a mask of regret. "You don’t understand," she repeated, the desperation clear in her voice. "I will ruin you. I’ll drag you down into this hell I’ve made for myself. You’ll never be the same after this."

"I don’t care," you said, your voice hoarse with emotion. "I don’t care if it destroys me. I just want you to know that I will always be here. No matter what."

Sofia’s lip quivered as she took a step back. "I can’t love you like this," she said, her voice shaking. "I can’t drag you through this darkness with me."

"You’re not dragging me," you whispered, your hand reaching for hers. "I’m walking into it with you. Because I choose you."

For a moment, you thought she might actually break. That maybe, just maybe, she would give in. That the years of isolation, the years of suffering she had endured, would finally break, and she would let you love her.

But then the walls slammed down, harder than ever before.

She pulled her hand away, stepping back. "You don’t get it," Sofia whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of a thousand unsaid things. "I will destroy everything we have. I will destroy you."

And that was it. The moment when you knew that no matter how hard you fought, no matter how deeply you loved her, it was never going to be enough.

Her love—if it could even be called that—was as broken as she was. It was too late to fix either of you.

And you realized, with a shattering certainty, that you were both always doomed. Doomed to never be enough for each other. Doomed to suffer.

And so, as she walked away from you, you felt it.

The end.

The final loss.

And all you could do was stand there, shattered, broken, waiting for the emptiness to consume you whole.

Because in the end, even your love wasn’t enough to save either of you.

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

IX. “goodbye, Gotham”

parts: previous / next

plot: when the flooding recedes, Mr. Wayne helps you leave the city—but not before a sufficient olive branch.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, mention of chemo, playful banter/teasing

words: 2.9k

Bruce looked over with a heavy scoff, and you bristled. Before he could react you continued. "Alfred is kind, and thoughtful, and obviously helps you because you were calling out to him again and again." This elicited an immediate response.

"Don't tell me about Alfred." He spoke through gritted teeth, the color coming back to his face with red heat.

You wanted to step away but swallowed the lump in your throat. Alfred says he's so compassionate, huh? Doesn't seem like it. "You don't have to keep up this tough guy facade, you know."

His sarcastic laugh boomed in the hallways and you could've sworn you heard Alfred wake up. "Facade. Big words."

"Dick!" You turned on your heel and stomped up the stairs, then heard a low sigh.

"I'm sorry." He spoke. You didn't turn to look at him; it was triggering hearing a man mock you so openly, especially in his own home. Being a vigilante billionaire didn't absolve him from being a human being. "That's not fair fighting, and I didn't mean to imply—"

"That I'm some mousey, stupid woman?" You whipped back around, all but hissing at him. He met your eyes carefully from the bottom of the stairwell.

He gave a small nod, looking smaller now. "Nothing like that. I apologize." His swift recognition of wrongdoing did make it sting a bit less, and you had to remind yourself you were essentially camping out at his place.

You leaned against the top railing, staring down at the masses of brown marble flooring. The moment felt just tender enough for honesty. "You can be scary, Bruce.... Wayne." You hovered on his last name, hoping it might act as an olive branch.

Bruce didn't want to be scary. Sure, to criminals he wanted to be, but hearing you say he brought it home hurt. It sank into his chest a bit like a branding iron. He didn't like hearing you say his last name; it already felt foreign in your voice. He looked over at the puddles of water he dragged in and shifted the convo. "The flooding seems to be letting up. You'll be able to get back to your apartment soon."

You took that more personally than was necessary. A thought glued to you. "Wait, will I be able to see Alfred again?" You felt ridiculous as soon as you said it, knowing you were about to graduate and move across the country permanently. You wanted out of this city more than anything in the entire world. Now you were concerned about missing a random old guy? You walked over to the top of the stairwell and sat crosslegged, putting your head in your hands. Bruce shifted uncomfortably, not knowing quite what to say to you, and wondering why the hell you'd decided to sit with him on the stairs. You assumed he wasn't going to respond to the Alfred comment, and you didn't really want him to. You thought about how Alfred had said Bruce was worried during your reaction and decided to pay it forward. It took a lot more effort to verbalize than you thought. "Do you want any pain meds or anything?"

It felt like a breeze shot through Bruce's stomach. A weird rippling sensation. His leg was burning in pain and he wanted to say no, he needed to say no, he wouldn't accept help from you... except seeing you with your guard down was... pleasant? If he forgot you were about to expose him, which he immediately remembered. His momentary lapse in annoyance ended with his next comment. "Are you still going to expose me?" You didn't say anything, and after about thirty seconds of silence he looked up at you.

You slowly and discreetly shook your head. "No."

Bruce cleared his throat, trying to hide his relief. "I'm good on meds, yeah." He slowly rose from the stair and limped his way up. It was more bearable now that his body was lit up and electric—you weren't going to tell anyone? He wanted to trust you, it sounded genuine, this felt genuine, and usually he could trust his read of a situation... but it was you. You were different than everyone else; you’d noticed him immediately. It didn't even take a full second for years of practiced concealment and tracking two separate identities to fall apart. You scared him, too.

You stepped aside as he rose to the top of the stairwell. He looked at you from his periphery and gave a small nod. "Night." His voice was raspy and quiet, and then the only other sounds were of boots against ground and your own heels as you padded back to Alfred's office.

The next half hour you whizzed through the formatting, scheduling an email for a few hours later to Dr. Vry. You got ahead of her disappointment by writing:

Good morning Dr. Vry, I hope this email finds you well. Unfortunately Mr. Wayne rescinded his offer mid-interview, so I interviewed someone else. The paper is attached below. My sincerest apologies, and thank you again for getting me the journalism materials. They will be returned swiftly in the AM. If you would like confirmation that I did meet with Mr. Wayne I can put you in contact with his manager. Best, Y/N Y/L/N.

Sleep was hardly restful. You tossed and turned the next few hours, wired from finally turning in the last paper for your degree. You'd received an email back at 8:49am, where Dr. Vry expressed deep regret at your lack of follow-through on what would have been Bruce Wayne's first ever interview:

Ms. Y/L/N, thank you for turning in your paper. However, it would be remiss to not acknowledge my disappointment at what would have been such a spectacular frontier in journalism. I look forward to hearing from Wayne management to confirm your meeting. Regards, Dr. Janay Vry.

Fuck. Now you had to elicit Alfred to send a 'sorry' email. You sat up in bed, promptly hearing a strong knock. "Can I come in?" It was Bruce.

You hurried your greasy hair back into a ponytail with a rubber band you'd found and sat expectantly on the edge of the bed. "Yes?" In walked Bruce, presumably fresh from a shower. He had your phone in-hand. Your brow furrowed.

He nodded in anticipation. "You left it in Alfred's study. He's making breakfast now. No peaches." Bruce paused, avoiding eye contact. "Uh, and he wanted to tell you the flooding has died down enough to drive you back to your apartment." He tossed your phone to you and nodded before shutting the door. You sat, feeling the rage of hunger in your stomach. The first thing you did was look for flights back home: there was one from Gotham to Seattle at 11:45am, a five hour direct. With the time difference you might be able to make your mother's chemo appointment. Tentatively, you booked one of the last seats and bolted out to breakfast. It was 9:03. You needed to get home and shove all your belongings back into your luggage.

"Someone had a restful night!" Alfred was cheery, and placed an omelet in front of where you sat yesterday at the table. Bruce was already dished up and sidling into his chair across from you. "The ingredients are only egg, green and red bell pepper, spinach, olive oil, salt, and pepper. All good?" You gave him two thumbs up and thanked him, walking over to your side. You felt bad hurrying them.

You waited for Alfred to dish himself up and sit down, tucking into a few bites before you broached the question. "I actually booked a flight today, back home. My mom has a uh, thing happening and I needed to be back. Bruce—Mr. Wayne said the flooding had gone down, and I was wondering if I could get a ride back to my apartment."

Bruce side-eyed you when you corrected his name. It still felt weird hearing you say his last name. It was weird hearing you say his first. It was weird that you knew he was Batman. It was just... weird. He finished chewing and gestured to you. "What time's your flight?"

It was unnerving to have such normal conversations with Bruce Wayne. After both your walls had begun to settle the night before, you felt the weight of his reputation. You blushed, and could tell he noticed. "Um, around eleven. Like two hours."

Bruce's eyes nearly bulged out of his head "Couldn't have told us sooner?"

Alfred spoke, his face fallen, ignoring the man's antics. "I actually can't this morning, some men from accounting at Wayne Enterprises scheduled an emergency meeting. I'm so sorry. I'm sure Master Wayne can manage, however." He shot a glare at Bruce and Bruce rolled his eyes, starting to tear into his omelet with urgency.

"Yeah fine, whatever."

You squeezed your eyes shut tight at feeling like such a burden. The next fifteen minutes you scarfed down as much food as you could, then went back upstairs to gather your shoes and phone. You noticed Bruce standing expectantly at the front door, wearing sunglasses as he peered at what you assumed to be a newly-delivered paper. He looked up when he heard your footsteps, making you hustle down the stairs.

Without a word he slid through the open door, but you reached your head around to see Alfred cleaning up the kitchen. You ran over to him and gave him a hug, quickly telling him about the email thing. He agreed to send the email shortly, and even offered to return your journalism supplies. Looking at the time—9:45—you had no choice but to take him up on it. He told you not to be a stranger and sent you off on your way. Your heels ached the arches of your feet, but you weren't taking a chance with the sewage water still taking up an inch of real estate on the concrete. Bruce was already pulling out of a matte black Lamborghini, the passenger door opening automatically as you walked to it. You slid into the leather seat and tucked your feet in as he sped off.

You watched out the window as trees and grass turned to buildings whizzing by. The car was quick and steady; the tinting on the windows seemed a bit excessive, but you understood the need. After a few minutes of silence he startled you with a question. "Why didn't you write the exposé?" He tried to make his voice strong, his tone nonconfrontational.

You shrugged. You were still a bit bitter about the night before and his comments about your smarts, but if this was going to be your last time seeing him you figured there was no shame in being honest. "I didn't want to jeopardize the city. As much as I hate to admit it, you make it better." You let out a heavy sigh trying to rid of the tension.

His hands stiffened on the wheel. It was the first kind thing you'd ever said to him; it was the first time someone other than Alfred had mentioned Batman to him... because you were the only one outside of him who knew. A small smile curled up his lips. Music to his insecure ears. Did he really make it better? Really? He wanted to. He really, really wanted to. Did you really mean it? Actually?

"STOP!" Your shout caused an immediate braking, and a worried mother clutched her kids as they rushed across the crosswalk. Bruce tensed, eyes wide. He'd never come close to hitting a pedestrian. His heart pounded as he glanced at you beside him. You stared with a tight-set jaw, your hands clenched together in your lap and eyes as wide as his own. He moved his attention back to the road and kept on, refusing to entertain any more potentially lethal thoughts.

It was 10am on the dot when you pulled up in front of your apartment complex. It had been such an awkward ride you hadn't questioned how he knew your address, but you didn't have time to pester him. Bruce got out just as you were jogging to the lobby doors, and your eyes nearly bulged out of your head as you hissed at him. "What are you doing?! Someone could see you!"

"Traffic is always bad around this time at the airport. We need all the time we can get, I'm helping." His tone was flat and he adjusted his sunglasses... as if they could distract from the Lambo in front of the complex screaming BRUCE WAYNE IS HERE! You pushed through the lobby and rushed to the elevator, Bruce calmly in tow. The doors opened and you both stepped inside. He sidled in next to you now, and you looked over at his outfit. Unlike the last elevator ride together, he was just wearing a black tee and trousers. He glanced at you from his periphery and you quickly moved your line of sight to the floor with a subtle blink. A subtle aroma of pink pepper and musk lingered in the air, mixed with a little bit of sweat. Your sweat. You hadn't showered in days, and did a little shift of your weight away from him. Embarrassment washed over you.

"What?" He turned his head, noticing your movement away. "Looking for more lint?"

No, I just smell bad. You thought. I probably smell like ass and I don't want that to be your last memory of me. It became apparent to you how terrible of an impression you would leave on the man—forcing your way into his home with blackmail, being forced to more than overstay your welcome, now he was helping you pack while you smelled like sweat and spit. It was embarrassing. Very embarrassing.

The DING of the elevator doors opening to your floor was like a call from heaven, and you rushed past him so he couldn't get a good sniff.  You fumbled with the lock and thanked god how poor you'd been as a student; your apartment was small and minimalist, making it easy to throw everything into one or two luggage bags and move yourself back home in a jiffy. Trying your best to forget that a billionaire was standing in the middle of your studio, you went to your small closet and pulled out the large checked-luggage bag your dad had bought you two years prior. You hadn't been able to fill it then, but were grateful now for the extra real estate.

"What do you want me to do?"

You looked around the room, running through a short list of everything you'd have to do in the next half hour. The bedding needed to be removed, bathroom ransacked, kitchen food trashed, and clothes packed. Oh. And you needed to go down to the lobby and break the lease.

"Uh, can you clean out the fridge? I need to get to the lobby." You bit your lip hard, anxious as you grabbed your keys and rushed downstairs, ignoring the elevator in order to try and metabolize some of the stress. You only had about ten dollars left in your checking, and you'd forgotten that breaking a lease would mean an extra fee.

When you made it to the receptionist, it was a new person you'd never seen before. She looked sour, and rolled her eyes when you walked up. "Hey uh, I need to break the lease."

"Name and unit number?" She smacked on gum as she sat up and started typing. You obliged, and after agonizing silence she shook her head. "Your lease ends this month anyway and you already paid the rent. We'll be sending a check to your permanent address after you have returned the keys with your deposit if everything is good."

Oh thank GOD. You thanked her profusely, somehow still out of breath, and went back up the stairs. Jesus. Thank god. If you had to ask Bruce Wayne for MONEY? You would've rather jumped off the Gotham bridge to your untimely demise. You put the key in your lock and opened the door to him standing with the bedding removed, fridge open and cleaned out, and half your clothes packed into the bag. Half of you wanted to be angry at him touching things without your consent, while the other was begrudgingly impressed. Almost like he read your mind, he spoke. "I didn't look at individual items, I just picked up armfuls and shoved them in."

Looking at your apartment now, the only thing left was the few toiletries in the closet (which could be recycled) and whatever was in your bathroom. You checked your watch: 10:20. "Thanks uh, can you wait in the car? I think I want to shower real quick."

He chuckled, plopping the last of your clothes into the bag. "I'm sure your seatmate will appreciate it.”

You gasped under your breath. "Really?" It hurt. You didn't want it to, but it did. You wanted to shoot something back at him, like you were only trying to smell like him or some shit. But it stung.

He chuckled again, shaking his head with a sly grin turning up his cheeks. "Nah. But you believed it."

[tansyuduri]

We Are Bruised But Whole Together

Arthur wakes up in modern Glastonbury and to his unfathomable relief finds Merlin. But nothing is simple. Everything he knew is gone, for one. He wonders what of his achievements were actually his own, and not just Merlin's magic, for another. Arthur also has to face the fact that he kept the ban on magic going. Was he ever truly a good king?

There is also the “I love you” he mouthed to Merlin before dying. Something he cannot afford to focus on, because, as Merlin tells him, Albion’s time of greatest need is upon them.

Then comes the unthinkable. Merlin’s magic, which has been growing over the last thousand years, is suddenly too strong for the sorcerer's human body to handle. Faced with the prospect of losing Merlin, feelings suddenly come out and Arthur realizes that if he can save the man he loves and the land of Albion, he might be able to forgive himself for his mistakes and everything he is not.

The question is, can he?

Expect fluff, angst, humor, banter, hurt/comfort, whump, and lots of Merthur!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Merlin held Arthur as the sun began to set. He rubbed a hand up and down the other man’s back as Arthur gripped him tightly. He could hear Arthur slowly working to pull himself together. 

Finally, Merlin heard a whisper. 

“Sorry.” 

“You’re apologizing to me?” Merlin said incredulously. “For having emotions?”

Arthur raised his head slowly, letting go of Merlin. “Seems so.”

Merlin could not let that stand. 

“Of all the… Arthur, don’t you dare try to apologize to me for crying after learning what you did just now,” Merlin told him. “Don’t you dare. You emotionally repressed, impossible, dollophead of a king! Don’t you dare apologize for being human.”

Arthur met Merlin’s gaze with his red-rimmed blue eyes slightly wide. Then a smile started to grow on his face. “You still can’t address me like that.”

“What? The dollophead bit? Or the emotionally repressed, impossible, idiot bit?” Merlin crossed his arms. 

“Both… Wait, did you just add ‘idiot’ to the insults, Merlin?”

“Yes. Seems I did. Problem, Your Majesty? ”

Merlin saw Arthur open his mouth to retort, then let out a slight laugh and shake his head. “I’m glad you didn’t change, Merlin.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Art By @gyrhs Army of Betas: Sleepygecko, Joyale, Anne Exception, vandalyssm, Sage_Owl, Loki_Lover_1234, @kadenemrys ____________________________________________________________

Read it and It's Sequals on A03 HERE

[boyimjustaloserforyourlove]

they apologise

GUYS IF YOU LIKE IT OR HAVE ANY SUGGESTIONS PLEASE COMMENT I'D LOVE TO HEAR YOUR OPINIONS!!!!!! and please send like requests because I don't have any ideas😭

[aventurineswife]

Hello earthian!! Can I request where aventurine, ratio, and whatever characters u wanna add with their kid begging for a sibling. This idea occupied my mind for days^^

“I want a sibling!”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Fluff, Humor, Established Relationship, Parenting, Suggestive Themes, Family Dynamics, Light Angst(?), Playful Banter.

Warnings: Mildly Suggestive Content (Implied intimacy), Parent-Child Discussion of Siblings (Handled in a light and humorous tone), Reader Embarrassment, Mentions of Childhood Loneliness (in the context of the child wanting a sibling), Reader is referred to as 'Renny' as a gender-neutral term for mom or dad.

The soft clink of bracelets echoed in the room as Aventurine leaned against the edge of the grandiose dining table, his signature smile curving on his lips. His eyes sparkled as he watched your child, a spirited seven-year-old with eyes like his, puff out their chest in determination.

“Papa,” the child declared, stomping a tiny foot for emphasis, “I want a sibling! Someone to play cards with me—and win! Renny's too busy, and you always say you’re unbeatable!”

You nearly choked on your tea, coughing violently as heat flushed to your face. “W-Well, sweetie,” you stammered, setting down your cup, “it’s not… it’s not that simple!”

Aventurine’s grin widened as he crouched to your child’s eye level. “Oh, is that so?” he purred, a teasing lilt in his voice. “You’re requesting an addition to our little family? Quite the gamble, don’t you think?”

The child’s eyes sparkled. “I’m serious, Papa! You said you’re good at making plans. Make a sibling plan!”

You buried your face in your hands, muttering, “I’m going to die of embarrassment.”

Aventurine chuckled and ruffled the child’s hair. “Alright, little one. I’ll talk to your parent about… the logistics.”

The child beamed, clapping their hands before darting off, presumably to draw up a “sibling plan” themselves.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Aventurine rose, striding over to you with that infuriatingly charming smirk. “Logistics, hmm?” he murmured, his hands finding your waist.

“Don’t you dare,” you warned, though your voice lacked conviction.

“Oh, but I think it’s worth discussing,” he whispered, leaning close until his lips brushed your ear. “After all, I am very good at planning... and execution.”

You swatted at his chest, your face burning hotter than the Sigonian desert. “You’re impossible!”

“And yet,” he teased, pulling you closer, “you still can’t resist me.”

The evening was calm in Ratio’s study, the golden hues of a setting sun casting a warm glow over the shelves lined with books and artifacts. You were seated comfortably in an armchair, flipping through a datapad, while Ratio scribbled something in his journal, his violet hair catching the light.

Your child burst in, their eyes filled with excitement. “Daddy! Renny!” they called, rushing over to Ratio’s desk.

Ratio set down his pen, tilting his head curiously. “Yes, little scholar?”

“I want a sibling,” the child announced, planting their hands firmly on the desk. “It’s boring being an only kid. Everyone else at school has brothers or sisters!”

You blinked, stunned by their bluntness. “Oh… well… that’s…”

Ratio leaned back in his chair, one hand thoughtfully stroking his chin. “Interesting proposition,” he mused, his tone as serious as if the child had asked him to solve a mathematical theorem. “Have you considered the variables involved?”

The child frowned. “What’s a variable?”

“Time, energy, resources,” Ratio said, ticking off on his fingers. “And, most importantly, whether your parent and I agree to the hypothesis.”

Your face turned scarlet. “Veritas!”

He smirked slightly, meeting your gaze. “Am I wrong?”

The child tilted their head, clearly not grasping the layers of meaning in his words. “So… does that mean yes?”

Ratio chuckled, patting the child’s head. “It means your parent and I need to conduct… further discussions. Why don’t you go revise your spelling words while we deliberate?”

With a satisfied nod, the child ran off, leaving the study in blissful silence.

You crossed your arms, glaring at your husband. “Further discussions? Really?”

Ratio stood, his hair falling into his eyes as he approached you with a teasing smirk. “I see no flaws in their logic,” he said, leaning close enough that you could see the gold flecks in his eyes. “Perhaps we should test their hypothesis.”

You groaned, covering your face. “I can’t believe you’re entertaining this.”

“I’m merely responding to a valid inquiry,” he replied smoothly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His voice dipped lower, sending a shiver down your spine. “But… I admit, I’m curious to see how this experiment might unfold.”

Your protest died in your throat as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing yours.

“Veritas…” you murmured, half-exasperated, half-enchanted.

He pulled back slightly, his smirk deepening. “Shall we begin our research?”

[yourneighborhoodporg]

The Guardian

Series Masterlist

Rating: T

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Summary: When Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka crash land on the desolate, ice planet Hoth, they meet a stranger with great power and deep connections to their past. You join the trio, hoping to face your destiny, which has long been foretold. But when the Separatists and Sith threaten you and your newfound family, you’re forced to make sacrifices to defend your friends, fulfill the prophecy, and protect the man you’ve grown to love.

✨Playlist✨

Part I: Rescue of the Fates

The Hoth Arc

Chapter 1: The Accident

Chapter 2: The Revelation

Chapter 3: The Escape

The Arrival Arc

Chapter 4: Arrival— Part 1 & Part 2

Chapter 5: Identity

Chapter 6: Patience

Chapter 7: Master

The Dark Waters Arc

Chapter 8: Blackened Water— Part 1 & Part 2

Chapter 9: Ancient Instruments

Chapter 10: Troubled Water

Part II: Dawn of Enmity

The Malevolence Arc

Chapter 11: Alone— Part 1 & Part 2

Chapter 12: Separated

[lunainlove]

I feel like I have read all the good fanfics on ao3 for ghostsoap 😭😭 in times like this I hate being so picky with what I read and all the other fanfics that catch my attention are not finished and I refuse to read until they are done because I’m not patient at all so I’m left with nothing 😭😭😭 and finding good fics is so difficult on ao3 like I usually get what I read from recommendations, snooping into my fav authors bookmarks and pure luck

Anyway if someone has good fanfics please lmk I’m open to anything but recently I’ve been craving some mission focused fic or something like that with found family (I’m a sucker for gaz price ghost soap laswell ale and rudy together) and a happy ending because the I absolutely adore angst as long as there’s a happy ending 😭😭😭😭

[ravenclawshermione]

New Chapter Up - Love is a Promise

The relief that washed over me when Dick and Calla got home was a physical thing, stronger than I’d anticipated. I was still occupied with helping the Birds, but I paused just long enough for them to both give me a quick kiss before letting me get back to work. It didn’t escape my notice that Calla had very clearly been crying, but she also looked slightly less anxious than she had before, so I was optimistic. 

When they returned to my peripheral view a few minutes later, they’d changed out of their suits and into pjs. Dick was in sleep pants and a tight sleeveless shirt, and Calla was wearing an old Black Canary shirt that was just long enough that I wasn’t sure if she was wearing anything else. They should really be trying to sleep, but I didn't exactly have any room to speak. 

I forced myself to focus on the mission, and not my partners who were busy cooking something and trying to be quiet. Still, it was impossible not to notice how much more in sync they were than how they’d been the past two weeks. I was glad. I had hated watching her push him away. 

The tantalizing scent of java chip cookies filled the room, and I shot Calla a warm smile as she set a small plate of them down next to me. 

“I'm almost done,” I mouthed, taking one. 

They were heavenly, the perfect little energy boost to get me through the last bits of the heist. When the girls were safely on their way home, I let out a big sigh and got to work closing everything out. Finally, it was time to see what Dick and Calla had learned. 

They were waiting on the couch for me, a big plate with the rest of the cookies sitting on the coffee table. Dick had Calla half in his lap, and I moved to sit on the other side of her. 

“So, how did it go? What did he say?”

“Not great,” Calla said, at the same time that Dick replied with, “It went well.”

Calla gave a heavy sigh and rolled her eyes, and Dick kissed the top of her head. 

“Alec isn’t on Ivy’s side, and he thinks that Calla can stop her,” he explained. 

“Yes, well, he’s also not going to help. And it’s a very big maybe on if I actually can stop her,” Calla added. 

“A maybe is better than you thought you had before,” I said, cuddling closer to her, “And even if he’s not helping, it's good to know he’s not going to be an issue.”

She gave another heavy sigh, but took my hand, “You two are incorrigible, you know that? Ridiculously optimistic.”

“Yeah, but you love it,” Dick teased. 

“I love you,” she said, giving him a quick kiss before leaning over to give me one as well, “I accept the optimism as a fair trade.”

“So, since you’re accepting our optimism, what’s the plan?”